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Travels in Russia 
Belgium and Holland 


A Day in London 


By 


THEOPHILE GAUTIER 


Translated and Edited by 
PROFESSOR F. C. De SUMICHRAST 


DEPARTMENT OF FRENCH, HARVARD UNIVERSITY 


Voutume VII. 


The C. T. Brainard 
Publishing Co. 
Boston Rew Pork 


EDITION  DESDOAL 


THIS EDITION OF THE WORKS OF 
THEOPHILE GAUTIER, PRINTED FOR 
SUBSCRIBERS ONLY, IS LIMITED TO 
ONE THOUSAND NUMBERED SETS, OF 


WHICH THIS IS 


RNo._ 


Copyright, 1Q0r 


By Gerorcr D. Sprout 


Contents 


Diet ERR is els: 5: aay He AY ate! LAGE 38 

PART I.— WINTER IN RUSSIA. 
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List of Illustrations 


POM eis Ay (ahi say Erontispiece 
Cathedral of St. Isaac’s, St. Petersburg . Page 346, Part I 
PsemMmODe VIE PACIOS has) ey ie en SE ESO, &€* TT 


Seni ciara ie ee ll este ome. Sein TY 


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Introduction 


HOUGH the Romanticists loved exoti- 
cism, they seldom, indeed rarely, took the 
trouble to visit foreign countries for them- 
selves, being perfectly satisfied, after the 

fashion of Thomas Moore when he wrote “ Lalla 
Rookh,” to accept the accounts of strange climes and 
little known lands published by travellers whom the 
demon of change and novelty had driven thither. It 
is true that the father of Romanticism himself, the 
illustrious Chateaubriand, had been a great traveller, 
and that he had personally visited the places in which 
he laid the scene of his various tales and novels. 
Lamartine, also, had turned to account his early visit 
to Italy in the setting of ‘* Graziella,” but neither Mus- 
set nor Victor Hugo, to name only the greater names 
in the galaxy of brilliant writers that formed the school, 
had ever set foot in Venice or the East when they 


composed, the one his “ Tales of Spain and Italy,”’ the 


i 


SLEALEALLELLLALALALLL LAL LALS 
T.RAV.E LS UN “Re@ieae 


other his superb “ Orientales,”’ so full of colour and 
dash. 

Yet the Romanticist movement tended greatly to 
encourage travel and to lead the sedentary Frenchmen 
to issue from the boundaries of their country for the 
express purpose of making themselves acquainted with 
the scenery of other lands, the manners and customs 
of their inhabitants, and the character of their art and 
their literature. The desire to know foreign things, so 
industriously fostered by Mme. de Staél, — a desire that 
had already led many a one of her forerunners to visit 
England, that had led thither men of very different 
mind and purpose from her own,— grew constantly 
keener and more imperious. It may be said that with 
the triumph of Romanticism the love of travel was 
fairly implanted in the breasts of the French, though it 
was long before it took hold of the middle classes and 
led them also to seek the Swiss mountains and the 
Italian lakes. 

But there were difficulties in the way of intending 
tourists in those days that might well daunt even bold 
spirits. [he means of communication were neither 
as numerous nor as commodious as at the present time. 


‘The lumbering stage-coaches which travelled between 


4 


REEEHEALEALLLAPLLALL ALAA LALLY 
INTRODUCTION 


the chief centres were in no wise attractive, and a trip 
in one of these conveyances was something to be long 
remembered by those who had intrusted themselves to 
that mode of progression. ‘The hotels and inns were 
very far indeed from approaching the better modern 
houses of entertainment, leaving out of consideration 
the palatial hotels that now abound in great cities and 
in all popular resorts. “The post-chaise answered the 
needs of the wealthy, and many of the latter class usually 
travelled in carriages of their own, in which, of course, 
they secured the maximum of comfort attainable at the 
time. The roads, save where military necessities had 
compelled the construction of good highways, were 
rough and stony, and accidents due to these causes 
were frequent. Finally, the expense of travel was 
infinitely greater than at the present day, when one 
may so readily proceed from one part of Europe to the 
other for a very moderate sum. 

Notwithstanding all these drawbacks, as most people 
wou!d consider them, there were then, as now, deter- 
mined spirits that let slip no opportunity of travelling 
out of France, and chief among them was Théophile 
Gautier. As he truly remarks in the present volume, 


the demon of unrest possessed him. He loved travel 


5 


Be che abe oe oh he abe abe oho abe cheered tebe che che he ofa choad che heh 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


for its own sake; the mere act of moving about and 
seeing new lands was a delight to him. It was travel 
itself that he enjoyed, for it was full of sensations each 
more satisfactory than the others. He was a good 
traveller, in the fullest meaning of the word, for he did 
not cavil at every difference in manners and customs, at 
every change of food and drink, at every discomfort 
that diminished the pleasure he had been expecting. 
He took things as they came, and provided the land or 
the town or the people furnished him with a fair 
amount of ‘local colour,’ he was entirely content. 
This is especially evident in his account of his 
voyage in Russia. ‘The country certainly lacked, when 
he first visited it, the peculiar charms that drew him so 
strongly to Spain and Italy and Greece. It had not, 
like these, a store of legendary lore with which every 
well educated and decently read European was familiar, 
and that lent to the land and its sites an additional 
and powerful interest. It was not highly civilised in 
the same way as the other countries he had already 
visited, and did not have the charm of an art and a 
literature in which he could find themes congenial to 
his highly artistic nature. It possessed, no doubt, 


treasures of art, but these were drawn from the older 


6 


etteeebbtetttetttttttthst 
INTRODUCTION 


lands, and were already well known to him through 
similar works. It had not a reputation for splendour 
of light, magic of colouring, or softness of climate, like 
_ the countries of the South. But it did have an inde- 
finable attraction due to the very ignorance of the 
country which was characteristic of most Frenchmen, 
and indeed of most Englishmen at that time. Russia 
had been traversed, of course, and travellers had 
brought back accounts of the strange architecture, the 
unusual food, the quaint customs, and the novel dress 
of the inhabitants. It was, above all things, the land 
of snow and frost; the country of fierce and desolating 
winter storms; of sleigh journeys on which the ven- 
turesome traveller ran the risk of being devoured by 
hordes of famished wolves. There one might see the 
splendour of the long winter nights when the sun 
scarcely shows above the horizon, and of the endless 
summer days when the orb of day disappears but for 
the briefest of moments, mingling, as Gautier puts it, 
its setting and its rising. 

It was thus an altogether new series of aspects and 
effects that he was called upon to describe, but he 
achieved as brilliant a success in this case as he 


had in that of Spain, Italy, and Constantinople. ‘T’o 


7 


ALLALALLALLALLALLLLLALELS 
TRAVEILS (IN) RUSSTA 


many of his admirers the “ Travels in Russia” are his 
masterpiece in that particular line of work, though it 
is dificult to pronounce between the conflicting claims 
of the several volumes. It is certain, at least, that his 
powers are here seen at their best, and that he has fully 
come up to the expectations his friends had formed. 
Dealing with an entirely novel series of effects, for 
which it might have been thought that neither his palette 
nor his vocabulary, one and the same thing in his case, 
were prepared, he has done the fullest justice to the 
peculiarities of the Northern clime, into which he 
entered then for the first time. No one who has 
known the winters of Canada or of the West can. fail 
to be struck with the admirable manner in which 
Gautier has rendered the peculiar aspects of nature in 
the North, and at a season in which it wears so differ- 
ent a look from that it has in more temperate climes. 
The effect of the vast snow-covered landscapes, the 
beauty of the starlit, cold winter nights, the charms 
of the sports characteristic of the season, the sensations 
awakened in one by the totally different look of the 
country, these he has reproduced to perfection. One 
feels the Northern winter again on reading these pages ; 


the melancholy it inspires again fills the breast, and it 


8 


hecho oe obese oe ode be abe orca oboe abe ate oleae oe oot 


ore ore ore ere Ty 


INTRODUCTION 


needs but scant exercise of the imagination to fancy 
one’s self back in days of blizzard or of the still cold 
that kills man and beast. 

Then he has so wonderfully seized upon the charac- 
teristic traits of the land and the people; he has well 
impressed on his reader the feeling of strangeness 
awakened by contact with this semi-barbarous civilisa- 
tion; he makes one enter into the outer life of the 
inhabitants, for he himself makes no claim to inform 
us of their inner life or to study their psychology — 
indeed, psychology, as every one knows, was the last 
thing thought of by the Romanticist school of writers. 
He does thoroughly, however, impart to us the feeling 
that we are in Russia, and he notes just those small 
differences that nowadays are almost all that is left of 
the distinctions between one country and another. 

An artist above and beyond all, he seizes on whatever 
is picturesque and beautiful. His description of the 
home-coming, at fall of night, of the crows and ravens 
that inhabit the many towers and belfries of the Kremlin 
at Moscow, is a most beautiful and poetic piece of work. 
His account of the light effects upon the cathedral of 
Saint Isaac’s in Saint Petersburg, is a marvellous exam- 


ple of word-painting. It is more than suggestive, which, 


9 


Seeeteeeeetttetettttttsest 


re CFs ote oFe 


TRAVELS UFWORUSSre 


after all, is about all that one can ask of word-painting; 
it makes the effects visible in themselves. He observes 
far more accurately and closely than would be supposed 
by most persons acquainted with the rough and ready 
rashness of the average Romanticists, when it is a ques- 
tion of producing a new sensation or obtaining a startling 
contrast. His notes on the colour of the snow and of 
the shadows which it forms have nothing very wonder- 
ful about them, it may be, and these things are familiar 
enough to any one with eyes who has lived in a cold 
country, but they prove at least that Gautier did not 
allow preconceived notions to interfere with his observa- 
tions. His description of the trip down the Volga has 
a charm and an ease that do not at first strike the reader. 
It takes a little thinking to note all the delicacy with 
which the expressions have been chosen and the effects 
translated into writing. There are verses of Browning’s 
that recur to the memory on reading certain passages in 
this portion of the book. 

Few, if any writers, have such a capacity for repro- 
ducing and conveying the aspect of a town or a city to 
a reader who has never visited the place. In this volume 
the accounts of Moscow and Saint Petersburg of course 


suggest themselves at once as instances, but even more 


IO 


doable foo oe de oe ok ok de cbeche de cbe che deck bec ob ec 
INTRODUCTION 


interesting, from this point of view, are the descriptions 
of Lubeck, Berlin, Hamburg, and of the smaller Russian 
towns in which Gautier spent but a few days, or it may 
be but an hour or two. He seizes at once upon the 
characteristic features and so emphasises them that, just 
as he recognised Hamburg from Heinrich Heine’s satiri- 
cal description, so could one who had never been in 
Lubeck recognise at a glance the streets and houses 
Gautier tells of. 

Artist he always was, and the artist in him quickly 
responds to whatever of beauty appears to him. His 
account of the Bohemian concert in Rybinsk is simply 
superb. Rarely, if ever, has the peculiar power of 
music to suggest and bind as with a spell been so graph- 
ically and admirably described. Gautier was not a 
musician, of course, in the technical sense of the word, 
but he felt music, and understood it as an expression of 
certain feelings that can in no other way be revealed. 
It is this that he has brought out so strikingly in the 
passage referred to, and it is but an additional proof of 
his largeness of mind and of his intense love of the beau- 
tiful. Even Byzantine art, with its stiff, archaic forms 
and its dull colours, purely conventional and unlike 


nature, finds favour in his eyes as expressing certain ideas 


Il 


SEELAEALELALLALEALLALALLLALELS 
TiR AMEE LS IN? FRAUS Ses 


that deserve respect. He, the enthusiastic admirer of 
Tintoretto, Velasquez, Veronese, Rembrandt, Correg- 
gio, Rubens, can nevertheless find satisfaction and beauty 
in the contemplation of the ikons turned out by the 
monks of the Greek Church, and his account of. his 
visit to the painters’ studio in the Troitza convent is not 
one of the least attractive parts of his book. 

Gautier had some prejudices — should we like him 
as much had he been wholly free from them? One of 
these is that civilisation is, if not destructive of art, at 
least hurtful to it. Of course he was largely influenced 
in this view by the teaching of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 
which had taken so deep a hold on the younger genera- 
tions of France. If he does not follow the lead of the 
misanthropic Genevese to the extent of seeking to sepa- 
rate himself wholly from society, he does indulge in 
constant flings at civilisation and its effects. This can 
well be borne with in view of the fact that Gautier, at 
bottom, was one who most thoroughly appreciated the 
finest results of civilisation in the field ofart. He lived 
at a time when literary and art doctrines were still the 
cause of violent contentions and led to fights exceedingly 
bitter in their origins and developments. He had not 


quite got rid of, he never did quite get rid of, the old 


D2 


tetbbetbebbttbbbbtttbbdt 
INTRODUCTION 


enthusiasm that hurried him to the Théatre-Francais to 
lead the cheering on the occasion of the first performance 
of “ Hernani.” He still was the old war-horse of the 
tumultuous days of 1830, and he had to have his fling 
to the last at some of the doctrines that had then called 
down upon their supporters the obloquy of the young 
school. But these flings became rarer, and “ Russia ”’ is 
tolerably free from diatribes such as occur in some of the 
earlier works. 

From this point of view, and also as an example and 
a contrast, the pagesin which Gautier describes his first 
trips abroad will prove of the greatest interest. Belgium, 
Holland, and England were visited by him before he 
started on that memorable voyage to Spain in which he 
found his true environment. ‘The accounts of these 
earlier trips exhibit a buoyancy of spirits and a reckless- 
ness of expression that are occasionally startling, but 
they are precious as documents belonging to an earlier 
artistic stage of the writer’s evolution. They lack the 
beauty and finish of the later works, but the germs of the 
powers Gautier was to give such conclusive proofs of are 
to be found in them. 

The “ Travels in Russia”? appeared first in the 


columns of the Moniteur universel, in October, 1858, 


ee 


bbbbbbbbbbotbbbtbtbbbboe 
TRAVELS IN) RSs ie 


and continued to come out in instalments until the begin- 
ning of December, 1861. Several chapters, and these 
among the most important, such as ‘ Moscow,” 
“ Troitza,” “* Byzantine Art,” etc., were first published 
in the Revue nationale et étrangére, between the months 
of December, 1864, and October, 1866. The lengthy 
description of Saint Isaac’s was to form part of the 
notable work referred to by the author in the open- 
ing paragraphs of the second part of his Travels: the 
“ Treasures of Art of Ancient and Modern Russia.” 
This was to have appeared in separate parts ; five did 
appear, but the publication was then suspended, to 
Gautier’s infinite regret, for he had taken much pains in 
the preparation of the matter. It is this fact that explains 
what at first sight appears to be a curious, nay, a start- 
ling omission: there is not a word about the splendid 
collection of paintings in the Hermitage at Saint Peters- 
burg in the “ Travels.” 

The collected chapters were subsequently brought 
out together in book form in November, 1866, under 


the title they at present bear. 


14 


Travels in Russia 


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TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


BERLIN 


NE of the greatest pleasures of travel is 
the first walk through a city yet unknown, 
which dispels or realises the picture one 
had formed of it. Differences in forms, 

characteristic peculiarities, architectural idioms strike 
the eye still unaccustomed to them, and perceiving 
them then most clearly. 

My ideas of Berlin were drawn in great part from 
Hoftmann’s fantastic Tales. In spite of myself, a strange 
and queer Berlin, peopled with Aulic councillors, 
Kreislers, archivists like Lindhurst, and students like 
Anselmo, had grown within my brain in a fog of 
tobacco smoke; and now I beheld a regularly laid out 
city of grandiose aspect, with broad streets, wide 


promenades, handsome buildings, in a style half Eng- 


VOL. I—2 17 


tetbbottbbtbebtttbtbtttdb ddd 


ere oe wTe ore eve oe 


TRAVELS UN Rissa 


lish, half German, bearing the mark of the most recent 
fashion. 

As I walked, I glanced within the cellars, reached 
by polished, slippery steps, so well soaped that you 
tumbled into them as into an ant-eater’s hole, — won- 
dering whether I might not discover Hoffmann him- 
self sitting on a barrel, his feet crossed over the bowl 
of his giant pipe, in the midst of a comical swarm 
of beings, as he is represented in the illustration to 
Loewe-Weymar’s translation of his Tales; but as 
a matter of fact, nothing of the sort existed in 
these underground shops, which their owners were 
beginning to open. ‘The cats, most benevolent-look- 
ing, did not roll phosphorescent eyes like Murr, 
and seemed incapable of writing their memoirs, or of 
making out with their claws a score of Richard 
Wagner’s. 

Berlin, indeed, is anything but fantastic, and it took 
the mad poetic imagination of the story-teller to lodge 
phantoms in so bright, so straight, so correct a city, in 
which the bats of hallucination cannot find a single 
dark corner in which to cling with their claws. The 
handsome monumental houses, which, with their pil- 


lars, their fronts, their architraves, might easily be 


18 


obebaeck ch bb bb bebe chk hale bbe 
BERLIN 


taken for palaces, are generally built of brick, stone 
seeming to be scarce in Berlin. But the brick is 
covered with cement or plaster, painted to imitate 
dressed stone. Sham joints indicate fictitious courses, 
and the illusion would be complete, but that here and 
there the winter frosts have peeled off the cement and 
allowed the red tone of the bricks to show through. 
The necessity of painting the facades all over in order 
to conceal the nature of the material of which they are 
constructed, gives them the aspect of great architectural 
stage-settings seen by daylight. The salient parts, 
the mouldings, cornices, entablatures, and brackets, 
are of wood, of copper, or of tin, shaped as required. 
When not examined too closely, the effect is satisfac- 
tory. All this splendour lacks but one thing, and that 
is genuineness. 

The mansions that border Regent’s Park in London 
also have painted porticos and pillars with brick centres 
and plaster flutings, that attempt to palm themselves 
off for stone and marble. It would be much better to 
build plainly of brick, the warm tones and the in- 
genious contrasts in the laying furnishing so many 
resources. I have seen in Berlin itself charming 


houses built in this way, which had to the eye the 


ay 


Skeeeteeseeeteeettettetetes 
T)RALY.E'L S ND OR Oe 


great advantage of being true. Sham is always more 
or less unpleasant. 

The Hotel de Russie, at which I put up, is admi- 
rably situated, and I shall describe the prospect seen 
from the entrance steps, as it gives a very fair idea of 
the general aspect of Berlin. 

In the foreground is a quay bordering on the Spree. 
A few boats with lofty masts are cradled on the brown © 
waters. Boats on a canal or a stream within a city 
have always a charming effect. On the quay on the 
other side rises a row of houses, some of the older ones 
of which have preserved their peculiar character. The 
Royal Palace is at one corner; a dome resting upon 
an octagonal tower shows its monumental contour 
above the roofs. The flat walls and angles give grace 
to the roundness of the dome itself. 

A bridge — the centre of which opens to allow of the 
passage of vessels — spans the river, its white marble 
’ groups recalling the bridge of St. Angelo at Rome. 
These groups, eight in number if my memory serves 
me, consist each of two figures, the one allegorical, 
winged, representing the Fatherland, or Glory; the 
other real, representing a youth guided through many 


trials to triumphant immortality. Tchese groups, which 


20 


ttetebebetcetrerceeettteeete 
BERLIN 


are in classical taste, and in the style of Bridan or of 
Cartellier, are not lacking in merit, and many portions 
of the anatomy are well studied out. The pedestals 
are ornamented with medallions, on which the Prussian 
eagle, half realistic, half heraldic, is cleverly brought in. 
The decoration is rather too rich, in my opinion, for 
the simplicity of the bridge. 

Farther on, through the trees of a promenade, or a 
public garden, is seen the Old Museum, a great build- 
ing in the Greek style, with Doric columns standing 
out against a background of paintings. At the corners 
of the roof stand out against the sky, bronze horses, 
held in by equerries. At the back is seen the tri- 
angular pediment of the New Museum, while a church, 
imitated from the Pantheon of Agrippa, fills the space 
at the right, the whole forming a fairly grandiose 
prospect worthy of a capital city. 

On crossing the bridge, one catches sight of the 
grimy facade of the palace, before which extends a ter- 
race with a balustrade. The sculptures on the grand 
entrance are in the old German rococo taste, exag- 
gerated, rich, luxuriant, eccentric, that contorts orna- 
ments like heraldic lambrequins, and which I had 


already admired on the Dresden Palace. That man- 


21 


tebtbbetbtbeetdbbt ttt cede 
TRAV EL Sin eR@SS ie 


nered eccentricity hasa charm of its own, and is not 
unpleasant to eyes wearied by masterpieces, as mine 
are. It is marked by inventiveness, capriciousness, 
and originality, and at the risk of being charged with 
bad taste, I own that I prefer such exuberance to the 
Greek style imitated with more erudition than skill in 
modern monuments. On the other side of the gate 
prance great bronze horses in the style of Monte 
Cavallo’s, their bridles held by nude equerries. 

I visited the apartments in the palace. They are 
handsome and rich, but of no interest to the artist save 
as regards their old ceilings, which are curiously wrought 
out and carved, filled with cupids, foliage, and rock-work 
in the queerest taste possible. In theconcert-room there 
is a gallery for the musicians, covered with the quaintest 
carvings, all silvered over, which is exquisitely effective. 
Silver is not employed enough in decoration ; it rests 
the eye after the classic gold, and lends itself to other 
combinations of colours. The chapel, the dome of 
which rises above the Palace, must certainly satisfy 
Protestants, for it is bright, well arranged, comfortable, 
and decorated in rational fashion; it fails, however, to 
impress any one who has visited the Catholic churches 


of Spain, Italy, France,and Belgium. I was surprised 


pA A 


tttbbetetbtetottttbtt toed 
BERLIN 


at one thing,—the portraits of Melanchthon and 
Theodore de Béze painted upon a gold background; 
and yet it was quite natural that they should be so. 

Let us cross the square and take a turn through the 
Museum, admiring on our way a vast porphyry basin, 
resting upon cubes of the same stone, in front of the 
steps that lead up to the portico, decorated with paintings 
by various artists, under the direction of the celebrated 
Pieter von Cornelius. 

These paintings form a broad frieze, which is broken 
in the centre by the entrance to the Museum, and 
each end of which turns back along the side wall 
of the portico. The left portion exhibits a whole 
poem of mythological cosmogony, treated with the 
philosophy and science which Germans apply to such 
compositions. ‘The right portion, purely anthropologi- 
cal, represents the birth, development, and evolution 
of mankind. 

If I were to describe in detail these two vast frescoes, 
my reader would unquestionably be delighted with the 
ingenious inventiveness, the deep erudition, the sagacity, 
and the critical powers of the artist. It would form a 
work worthy of Kreuzer’s symbolics — the mysteries of 


the ancient origins are revealed, and science states its 


25 


debs eo ob de de deb beck de che deco eed be be 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


latest discovery. Or if I showed you them in those beau- 
tiful German engravings, with the outlines set off by light 
shadows, engraved sharply and accurately like Albert 
Durer’s work, and of a pallor agreeable to the eye, my 
reader would admire the ordering of the composition, bal- 
anced so artistically, the happy combination of the groups, 
the ingenious episodes, the careful choice of attributes, 
the significance of each detail. He might even note 
grandeur in style, a masterly turn, fine draperies, proud 
ports, characteristic types, boldness of muscular draw- 
ing, recalling Michael Angelo, and a certain piquant 
German savour. He would be struck by the familiar- 
ity with great things, the vast conception, the develop- 
ment of the idea, which our French painters ordinarily 
lack, and he would have almost the same opinion of 
Cornelius as the Germans. But in the presence of the 
work itself, the impression made is a very different one. 
As is well known, fresco-painting, even in the hands 
of the Italian masters, who are so well versed in the 
technique of their art, has not the attractiveness of oil- 
painting. The eye needs to become accustomed to the 
abrupt, mat tones before it can make out their true 
beauty. Many people who do not say so— for it is 


very rare to find any one who has the courage of his feel- 


24. 


fhbeeteteettetbbttittitee 
BERLIN 


ings or of his belief — think the frescoes in the Vatican 
and the Sistine Chapel hideous. It is only the great 
names of Michael Angelo and Raphael that make them 
keep silence, and they murmur empty formulz of enthu- 
siasm, before going into genuine ecstasy in the presence 
of a‘“* Magdalen” by Guido or a “ Madonna” by Carlo 
Dolci. I therefore make much allowance for the 
unpleasant aspect of frescoes. But in this case, the 
execution is assuredly far too repellent. If the mind 
is satisfied, the eye suffers. Painting, which is a purely 
plastic art, can render its ideal only through form and 
colour. It is not enoughto think, one must do. The 
finest intention needs to be expressed by a skilled brush, 
and if in vast compositions of this kind, I am willing to 
admit that details should be simplified and illusions 
should be left aside, that the colour should be neutral, 
abstract, and, so to speak, theoretical, I think also we 
should be spared the harsh, disagreeable, loud tones, the 
sharp discords, the lack of skill, the ugliness and heavi- 
ness of touch. Great as must be the respect paid to 
the thought, the first quality of painting is to be painting, 
and it must be allowed that such material execution as 
this is like a veil placed between the spectator and the 


artist’s conception. 


25 


ttptbetttetettttttttetttte 
TRAV ELS EN GR Vase 


I shall not make an inventory of the Berlin Museum, 
which is rich in pictures and statues of the great masters. 
The glories of royal galleries are more or less well 
represented in it. “he most remarkable thing is the 
very full and very complete collection of early masters 
of all countries and of all schools, from the Byzantines 
to the artists who flourished immediately before the 
Renaissance ; the early German school, so little known 
in France, and so interesting in many respects, can be 
studied here better probably than anywhere else. 

The staircase of the New Museum is decorated with 
Kaulbach’s remarkable frescoes, which engravings and 
the Universal Exhibition have made so familiar in 
France. Every one remembers the cartoon of “ The 
Dispersion of Mankind,” and everybody went to see 
the poetic “ Defeat of the Huns,” in which the battle 
begun between the living is continued by the souls above 
the battle-field, strewn with dead bodies. “The De- 
struction of Jerusalem’ is well composed, though 
somewhat too theatrical. It is much like a tableau at 
the end of the fifth act, and does not quite harmonise 
with the serious character of fresco-painting. | Homer 
is the central figure in a panel that represents Hellenic 


civilisation, and this composition seems to me the least 


26 


$et¢¢bet¢e¢te¢eteeetteeetts 
BERLIN 


good of the series. Other paintings, yet incomplete 
represent the climacteric epochs of humanity. ‘The last 
will be almost contemporary, for when a, German starts 
out to paint, he is bound to take in the whole of universal 
history. “The great Italian masters did not need so much 
to turn out masterpieces; but every civilisation has its 
own tendencies, and this encyclopadic style of painting 
is characteristic of the times. It looks as if, before start- 
ing out in pursuit of new destinies, the world felt it 
necessary to synthesise its past. 

‘These compositions are separated by arabesques, 
emblems, and allegorical figures relating to the subject, 
and they are surmounted by a grisaille frieze full of 
ingenious and charming motives. 

Kaulbach seeks colour, and if he does not always 
manage to find it, he at least avoids over-unpleasant 
discords. He indulges over-much in reflections, glaz- 
ings and splash lights, and his frescoes occasionally recall 
the paintings of Hayez or of Théophile Fragonard. 
He uses a medley of tones where a broad local tint 
would suffice. He breaks open, with inopportune 
vigour, the wall which he ought simply to cover over ; 
for fresco is a sort of tapestry, and it should not break 


in upon the architectural lines by any depths of per- 


27 


LELAELALAELLLEPALLALELE ELS 
TRAVELS. EN RU SSim 


spective. On the whole, Kaulbach cares more for the 
technical side of his art than pure thinkers, and his 
painting, though humanitarian, is yet human. 

The stairs, of colossal size, are adorned with casts 
of the finest statues of antiquity. In the walls are 
placed the Metopes of the Parthenon, the friezes of 
the Temple of Theseus, and on one of the landings 
rises the Pandrosion, with its caryatids, so powerfully 
and calmly beautiful. The whole effect is rather 
grandiose. 

‘ But what about the inhabitants ?”’ my reader will say. 
‘¢So far you have spoken only of houses, paintings, and 
statues. Yet Berlin is not a deserted city.” Unques- 
tionably not, but I spent one day only in Berlin, and 
not knowing German, I could not make any very deep 
ethnographical studies. Nowadays there is no visible 
difference between one nation and another. All have 
adopted the uniform domino of civilisation. No 
peculiar colour, no peculiar cut of the dress informs 
you that you are in a different country. The Berliners 
whom I met in the street or on the promenades can- 
not be described; and those who wandered Unter den 
Linden were exactly like those who wander up and 


down the Boulevard des Italiens. The Unter den 


28 


LEELA ALAELALALALALE ALLEL ALLA 
Bir R EEN 


Linden, which is bordered by magnificent hotels, is 
planted, as the name indicates, with lime trees, the 
leaf of which is heart-shaped, a peculiarity, as Heinrich 
Heine remarks, which has won it favour in the eyes 
of lovers, and makes it a favourite rendezvous. At 
the entrance rises the equestrian statue of Frederick the 
Great, the reduced model of which figured at the Uni- 
versal Exhibition. 

Like the Champs-Elysées in Paris, the promenade 
is closed by a triumphal arch, surmounted by a car 
drawn by four bronze horses. Beyond the triumphal 
arch lies a park, which corresponds fairly well to our 
Bois de Boulogne. 

On the edges of this park, shaded by great trees, 
which have all the intense green of Northern vegeta- 
tion, and are refreshed by a meandering stream, open 
gardens full of flowers, at the back of which are 
perceived houses of pleasaunce and summer-homes. 
They are neither chalets, nor cottages, nor villas, but 
Pompeian houses, with tetrastyles, porticos, and panels 
of rosso antico. ‘The Greek taste is in much honour 
in Berlin. On the other hand the Renaissance style, 
so fashionable in Paris, appears to be held in contempt, 


for I saw no building of that kind. 


29 


TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


bhbbbbbb ede tbettdttd 


a 
es 
i 
i 
if 
re 
i 


HAMBURG 


HE Hotel de Europe, where I have put up, 
: is situated on the Alster Quay. The 
Alster is a basin quite as large as the Lake 
of Enghien, and, like the latter, is full of tame swans. 
On three sides it is bordered by hotels and splendid 
residences in the modern taste. A dam planted with 
trees and topped by a pumping station, forms the fourth 
side; beyond stretches a vast lagoon. On the most 
frequented quay, a café, painted green, and built on 
piles, extends into the water, like that café on the 
Golden Horn at Constantinople, where I have smoked 
so many a chibouque while watching the sea-birds 
sweeping round. 

At the sight of the quay, the basin, the houses, I 
experienced a curious sensation. It seemed to me that 
I had seen them before. A vague reminiscence came 
back to my mind, and I wondered whether I had ever 
come to Hamburg without knowing it. Unquestion- 


ably none of these things were new to me; and yet I 


30 


ktbeebebetetttedtttetteet 
HAMBURG 

saw them for the first time. Could I possibly have 

preserved the memory of some painting or photograph ? 

No, it was not that. 

While I was seeking for the philosophical explana- 
tion of this remembrance of the unseen, the name of 
Heinrich Heine suddenly occurred to me, and then I 
understood. ‘The great poet had often talked to me 
about Hamburg, in that plastic language the secret of 
which he possessed, and which was equivalent to the 
reality. In the ‘Reisebilder’? he has described the 
café, the basin, the swans, and also the Hamburg 
citizens walking about; and pretty portraits he has 
made of them! He speaks of it again in his poem 
“¢ Germania,” and his description is so vivid, so strong, 
so accurate, that the actual sight of the place cannot 
teach you any more about it. 

I went round the basin, gracefully accompanied by 
a snow-white swan, so handsome that I might have 
believed that Jupiter proposed to seduce some Hamburg 
Leda, and by way of disguising himself more com- 
pletely, pretended to snap at the bits of bread I threw 
him. 

At the end of the basin on the right is a sort of 


public garden or promenade, with an artificial hill, like 


31 


che che abe abe oe che he ok che he ede echo cbc cbe heeded ob chook 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


the Labyrinth in the Botanical Garden in Paris. 
Having visited the garden, I retraced my steps. 

In every city there is a fine quarter, a new quarter, 
a rich, a fashionable quarter, the inhabitants of 
which are haughty, and to which guides conduct you 
proudly. ‘The streets are broad and straight, and cut 
each other at right angles; they are bordered by broad 
pavements of granite, brick, or asphalt; gas lamps are 
everywhere; the houses look like hotels or palaces ; 
the classically modern architecture, the clean paint, the 
varnished doors and polished brasses delight the muni- 
cipality and the leaders of progress. It is all clean, 
correct, healthy, full of light and air, and recalls Paris 
or London. There is the Exchange; it is superb; it 
is as handsome as that in Paris! Well, I grant all that ; 
and besides, one can smoke in it, which is an advan- 
tage. Farther on are the Law Courts, the Bank, etc., 
etc., built in the style that my reader knows of, which 
is adored by the Philistines of every country. But 
these things are not what an artist looks for. Undoubt- 
edly that mansion must have cost a great deal; it com- 
bines all possible luxury and comfort; it is evident 
that the inhabitant of that shell is a millionaire; yet I 


must be permitted to prefer the old house with over- 


32 


ALELEALAALDALAAPAPALALLALLL LES? 
HAMBURG 


hanging stories, roof of irregular tiles, and small 
characteristic details that reveal the life of previous 
generations. ‘To be interesting, a city must look as if 
it had lived; man must have in some sort given it a 
soul. What makes these splendid streets, built yester- 
day, so cold and dull is that they are not yet impreg- 
nated with human vitality. 

Leaving the new quarter, I penetrated little by little 
the labyrinth of the old streets, and I was soon in 
the presence of the picturesque, the characteristic 
Hamburg, a true old city, with its mediazval aspect, 
that would charm Bonnington, Isabey, and William 
Wyld. 

I have seldom enjoyed a walk more; I went 
slowly, stopping at every street corner, so as not to 
lose a single detail. “The gables of the houses were 
denticulated, or turned with volutes, like mouldings. 
The projecting stories, overhanging one another, were 
composed of a row of windows, or rather of a single 
window with glass panes separated by carved jambs. 
At the foot of the houses were cellars and underground 
rooms, which the stairs leading to the door spanned 
like drawbridges. Wood, brick, timber-work, stone, 


slate, mixed in a way to satisfy lovers of colour, filled 


VOL. I— 3 33 


tbbecheeebbbbebbbbth bolt 
TRAVE' LS*®INURWSSi4 


up the small portion of the fagades left free by the 
windows. The roofs were of red or violet tiles, very 
steep, and broken by dormer windows. These high- 
pitched roofs look very well against the Northern skies ; 
the rain runs down them, the snow does not lie on 
them. They are in harmony with the climate, and 
they do not need to be swept in winter. 

It was a Saturday, and Hamburg was making its 
toilet. Servant-maids perched on high were cleaning 
the windows; the sashes, opening outwards, projected 
on either side of the street. A light golden sun-mist 
gave a soft, misty warmth to the perspective, and the 
light flashed through the windows, each set out at right 
angles to the houses seen in profile. It is difficult to 
imagine the rich, precious, strange tones which the 
panes, placed one behind another, acquired from the 
sunbeams that shot obliquely from the end of the street. 
The windows of mysterious interiors, with green bub- 
bled panes, in which Rembrandt loves to place his 
alchemists, have no warmer, more transparent, or more 
splendid tones under their glacis of bitumen. Of 
course, when the windows are closed this peculiar 
effect vanishes, but there are left the signs and notices, 


each attracting the attention of the wayfarer by their 


34 


kkbkettbetetetettttttt tes 
HAMBURG 


symbols or their letters, that jut out from the wall and 
invade the public street. 

No doubt proper municipal ordinances would prevent 
all these projections beyond the street line; but they 
break the lines, please the eye, and vary the prospect 
by unexpected angles. Sometimes it is a sign in 
coloured glass, in which the sun sets rubies, topazes, 
and emeralds, and which marks an optician’s or a 
confectioner’s shop; sometimes, suspended from a 
great ornamented iron bracket, a lion holding a com- 
pass in one paw and a mallet in the other, the 
emblem of the coopers’ guild; or again, a barber’s 
brass dishes, shining so brightly that by their side the 
famed helmet of Mambrinus would appear verdigrised ; 
boards on which are painted oysters, cray-fish, herrings, 
soles, and other fish, indicating a fishmonger, — and 
so on. 

The doors of some of the houses are ornamented 
with rustic pillars, with vermiculated boss-work, deep- 
cut pediments, blowsy caryatids, little angels, small 
Cupids, huge foliage, and heavy rock-work, the whole 
washed over with paint, no doubt renewed every year. 

It is impossible to count up the tobacco-shops in 


Hamburg. Every two or three steps one comes across 


35 


REELEALLLALLLAELALE LL ALALLS 
TRAVELS AN OR Soa 


a negro, bare to the belt, and cultivating the precious 
leaf, or a Sultan wearing the costume of a carnival 
Turk, and smoking a colossal pipe. Boxes of cigars, 
with their vignettes and more or less fallacious inscrip-. 
tions, arranged somewhat symmetrically, formed the 
motives of the ornamentation of the show-windows. 
There must have been very little tobacco left in 
Havana, if those show-windows, so rich in famous 
brands, were to be believed. 

It was early. he servant-maids, kneeling on the 
steps or standing upon the window-sills, were busily 
occupied with the Saturday weekly cleaning. In spite 
of the pretty sharp air, they exhibited robust arms bare 
to the shoulder, tanned, reddened, and marked with 
that vermilion which so often surprises one in Ru- 
bens’s paintings, and which is due to the action of 
cold, wind, and water upon the fair skin. Little girls, 
belonging to the lower middle-class, bare-headed, low- 
necked, and bare-armed, were starting out to go to 
market. I shivered in my overcoat at seeing them so 
thinly dressed. It is curious that Northern women cut 
their dresses low and go about with bare arms and bare 
heads, while in the South women load themselves down 


with jackets, haicks, pelisses, and warm garments. 


36 


SLEREALAALASAAALLLAL ALLELES 
HAMBURG 


By way of filling up the measure of my joy, costume, 
which the traveller is obliged nowadays to seek for at 
great distances, and occasionally in vain, turned up 
artlessly before me in the streets of Hamburg, in the 
person of milkmaids, not unlike the Tyrolean water- 
girls of Venice. The milkmaids’ costume consists of 
a skirt fitting closely on the hips and pleated with very 
small pleats, basted together so as to flare out below 
the hips only, and of a jacket of green, black, or blue 
cloth, buttoned at the wrists. Sometimes the skirt is 
striped perpendicularly, sometimes it has a_ broad 
diagonal band of cloth or velvet. Blue stockings, 
which the fairly short skirt allows to be seen, and 
wooden-soled galoshes, complete the rather character- 
istic dress. “The head-dress especially is peculiar. On 
the hair, fastened at the back with a knot of rib- 
bon like a great black butterfly, is placed a straw hat 
in the shape of an over-set soup plate, with the bottom 
cut out so that the wearer can place on her head a 
pitcher or other burden. 

Most of the milkmaids are young, and their costume 
makes almost all of them seem pretty. They carry 
the milk in a rather unusual manner. A yoke, painted 


a bright red, cut out to fit round the neck, and hol- 


37 


kketeebettbettetttettttttttee 
TRAVEUS@IN®? Rigs ouee: 


lowed underneath to fit on to the shoulders, supports 
two pails, also bright red, which balance on either side 
of the girl, as she walks upright and with elastic step 
under her double burden. There is no better ortho- 
pedia than this fashion of carrying weights. These 
milkmaids have wonderful surefootedness, ease, and 
style. 

Wandering on as fancy led me, I reached the mari- 
time portion of the city, where canals take the place 
of streets. The tide was still low, and the vessels lay 
stranded on the mud, showing their hulls, and leaning 
over in poses that would have delighted a water-colour 
painter. Presently the tide rose, and everything began 
to move. I suggest that artists who desire to imitate 
Canaletto, Guardi, and Joyant, should go to Hamburg. 
They will find there endless motives as picturesque 
and more novel than those which they go to Venice 
for. 

This forest of salmon-coloured masts, with their tra- 
cery of rigging and their tanned sails drying in the sun, 
the tarred hulls with apple-green bulwarks and yards, 
the spars sticking into the windows, the cranes covered 
with a roof of boards, curved like that of a portico, the 


derricks, taking hold of the goods on the decks and 
38 


e¢ee¢eetterettetettteettes 
HAMBURG 


depositing them in the houses, the drawbridges opening 
to allow vessels to pass, the clumps of trees, the gables 
surmounted here and there by steeples of church domes, 
all bathed in smoke, illumined by sunbeams, sparkling 
with spangles, with vaporous blue distances brought out 
by vigorous evergreens, — produced effects most savoury 
and fecund in their novelty. A copper-roofed steeple, 
rising over this maze of spars and houses, reminded me 
by its curious green tint of the Tower of Galata at 
Constantinople. 

Let me note at haphazard a few peculiarities. The 
carts consist of a board and two open sides that flare 
out, and are driven @ Ja Daumont. When drawn by 
two horses, the booted driver rides one of the animals, 
instead of walking by its side, as is the case with us. 
When the cart has but one horse, the driver drives 
standing. ‘The narrowness of the streets, the necessity 
of waiting until the drawbridges, opened for the passage 
of vessels, are closed again, cause numerous blocks, 
which, thanks to the phlegm of both bipeds and quad- 
rupeds, are never dangerous. The postmen, wearing 
long red coats of antique cut, attract the stranger by 
their eccentric aspect. Rare indeed is it to see red in 


our modern civilisation, which loves neutral tints, and 


39 


$het¢t¢t4e¢ettetetetttettsts 
TRAVE LSAON “RES siea 


whose ideal seems to be to make the painter’s profes- 
sion impossible ! 

In the market green vegetables and green fruits pre- 
vailed. As has been truly said, baked apples are the 
only ripe fruit to be had in cold countries. On the 
other hand, flowers abounded. ‘There were barrelfuls, 
basketfuls of them there, fresh, brilliant, and perfumed. 
Among the peasants who were selling these various 
things, I noticed some who wore round jackets and 
short breeches. “They came, as well as the market 
girls, from one of the islands in the Elbe, where old 
customs are preserved, and the inhabitants marry strictly 
among themselves. 

Near the market I saw a flesh-coloured omnibus, 
which travels between Hamburg and Altona and back. 
It is built differently from our own. ‘The front is a 
sort of coupé provided with a glass window which can 
be lowered, protecting the travellers from wind and 
rain without depriving them of the view. The main 
body of the coach, pierced with windows has two side- 
benches, and at the back, the prolongation of the sides 
and of the roof shelters the conductor, and allows the 
passengers to get in or out under shelter. ‘ What is 


the use of these remarks?” [I hear my reader say. 


40 


detec heb bobbed bch bbb bbd 
HAMBURG 


“Why do you not tell us rather the tonnage of the 
port, the year in which Hamburg was founded, the 
number of inhabitants it contains?”? But I know 
nothing of these things, and any guidebook will give 
you that information. On the other hand, but for 
me you would forever have remained unaware that 
flesh-coloured omnibuses exist in this good Hanseatic 
town. 

While traversing the streets, I was much preoccupied 
by the fact that Rabelais often speaks of the caviare and 
the smoked beef of Hamburg, which he praises as ex- 
cellent stimulants to drink, and I expected to see whole 
heaps of them in the meat shops. But there is no 
more Hamburg smoked beef in Hamburg than Brussels 
sprouts in Brussels, Parmesan cheese in Parma, or 
Ostend oysters at Ostend. Perchance it might be 
obtained at Wilken’s, the local Véry, where one can 
get bird’s-nests soup, mock turtle, — not made with 
calves’ heads,— Indian curry, elephants’ feet, bears’ 
hams, bisons’ humps, Volga sturgeons, Chinese ginger, 
rose preserves, and other cosmopolitan dainties. 

One good thing about seaports is that nothing sur- 
prises one there. It is the proper place for eccentrics 


to live in, — but then, eccentrics love to be noticed. 


4I 


bebteeetetedctettttttett tee 
T RAVE LSiBUN- Rag See 


As the day grew on, the crowd became larger. 
Women were in the majority. They appear to en- 
joy great liberty in Hamburg. Quite young girls go 
and come alone, without any notice being taken of 
them, and what is remarkable is that the children go 
to school alone, their little basket on their arm, and 
their slate in their hand. If they were allowed to do 
that with us they would go and play. 

Dogs are muzzled in Hamburg the week through 
except Sunday, when they can bite whom they please. 
They are taxed, and seem to be highly thought of. But 
the cats look sad and misunderstood. Recognising a 
friend in me, they cast melancholy glances upon me, 
and said in their feline language, which I have acquired 
through long practice: ‘‘ These Philistines, busy making 
money, despise us ; and yet our eyes are yellow as gold. 
These fellows think that we are only fit to catch rats, 
we who are sages, dreamers, we who are independent, 
who spin our mysterious wheel while we sleep on the 
prophet’s sleeve. You may pass your hand over our 
backs, full of electric sparks, and tell Charles Baudelaire 


to bewail our griefs in a beautiful sonnet.” 


42 


thbebtteeteebebbhdbeebes 


Wear S LNA R USSSA 


P “HE town of Altona, whither repairs the flesh- 
coloured omnibus I have described, begins 
with a vast street with broad sidewalks, 

bordered with small theatres and side-shows, recalling 

the Boulevard du Temple in Paris, a queer remembrance 
on the frontier of the estates of Hamlet, Prince of 

Denmark. It is true, though, that Hamlet liked 

players, and gave them advice just like modern news- 

paper men. 

At the other end of Altona stands the station of the 
railway that leads to Schlesvig, whither I was bound. 
I had promised, if ever I passed through Denmark, to 
pay a visit to a beautiful lady, a friend of mine, and it 
was at Schlesvig that I was to ascertain how to reach 
L ... , which is only a few hours’ drive from it. 

So I got into a carriage, somewhat as an off chance, 
for I had much difficulty in making the ticket-seller 
understand where I wanted to go, — German here being 


complicated by Danish. Fortunately, my travelling 


43 


debe abd dh ch ek ch ch babcb lesbo bedded obeal oh heck 


ee Fe OFF offs eFC ee eFe ore ere 


TRAVELS GN ° Regie 


companions, very well-bred young fellows, came to my 
assistance with a Germanic French very much like 
that Balzac uses in the “ Comédie Humaine,” when he 
makes Schmucke and Baron de Nucingen speak, but 
which, nevertheless, sounded like delightful music to 
my ears. They were kind enough to serve me as 
dragomans. When a man is in a foreign country, 
reduced to the condition of a deaf-mute, he cannot help 
cursing the author of the TYower of Babel, whose pride 
brought about the confusion of tongues. But seriously, 
nowadays, when mankind circles like generous blood 
by the arterial, venal, and capillary net-work of railways 
through every region of the globe, there should be held 
a congress of nations to decide upon the adoption of a 
common language, French or English, which, like 
Latin in the Middle Ages, should become the general 
and universal speech, the human tongue, so to speak. 
It would have to be learned by everybody in every 
school and college. Of course, each nation would 
preserve its own peculiar mother-tongue. 

Night comes on quickly after these short autumn days, 
which are shorter here than in Paris, and the landscape, 
which is very flat, soon disappears in the vague penumbra 


that changes the form and character of objects. At. 


44 


dodo decbeck ch deck dh ob b bch check hb check oh bt 
SCHLESVIG 


Schlesvig the railway, which is to be prolonged by-and- 
by, goes just beyond the station and stops in the 
middle of a field, like the last line of a letter, abruptly 
interrupted. The effect is singular. 

An omnibus secured me and my trunks, and believ- 
ing that it must of necessity take me somewhere, I 
allowed myself to be carried away trustfully. ‘That 
intelligent omnibus deposited me in front of the best 
hotel in town, and there, as travellers’ journals say, 
I “had speech with the natives.” Among them there 
was a waiter who spoke French in a sufficiently 
transparent fashion to enable me to get a glimpse of 
what he meant, and who, which is much more rare, 
sometimes understood enough of what I said to him. 

The writing of my name upon the register was like 
a flash of light, for the hostess had been informed of 
my arrival, and I was to be called for as soon as news 
of my coming had been received. As it was late, I 
waited until the next morning. 

The messenger sent off that night returned rather 
late the next day, the distance from Schlesvig to 
-L... . being twenty-seven miles, or fifty-four there 
and back. The news he brought was rather contra- 


dictory. The lady of the castle was at Kiel, or Eckern- 


45 


ALELLALLALLALLALLAELALLAL ASS 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


foerde, or else in Hamburg, or mayhap in England; 
but as I had not come to Denmark merely to leave a 
card with the words, “I shall not call again,” I sent off 
three telegrams to the three different places, and while 
awaiting a reply strolled through Schlesvig, which has 
quite a peculiar aspect. 

The city extends on either side of a main thorough- 
fare, into which side-streets run like the bones into the 
backbone ofa fish. Itis on this street that stand the 
fine modern houses; but as usual they have nothing 
characteristic. On the other hand, the more modest 
dwellings have quite a local character. They consist 
of a very low ground-floor, not more than seven or 
eight feet high, over which spreads a great roof of fluted 
red tiles. Broad windows fill up the whole facade. 
Behind the windows bloom in pots of porcelain, crock- 
ery, or varnished earthenware, all manner of flowers: 
geraniums, verbenas, fuschias, cacti. “here is no excep- 
tion to the rule; the poorest house blooms like its neigh- 
bours. Behind this sort of perfumed screen, the women 
sit knitting or sewing, and glancing into the outside 
mirror, which reflects the few passers-by whose steps 
resound on the pavement. ‘The cultivation of flowers 


is one of the passions of the people of the North. In 


46 


countries where flowers grow naturally no one cares 
for them. 

The church had a surprise in store for me. Protes- 
tant churches are generally very uninteresting from an 
artistic point of view, unless the reformed religion has 
installed itself in a Catholic sanctuary diverted from its 
original use. Usually there is nothing to be seen but 
whitewashed naves and walls without any paintings or 
bassi-relievi, and long rows of shining oaken benches. 
They are clean and comfortable, but they are not 
handsome. The church at Schlesvig, however, contains 
a masterpiece by a great unknown artist, a triptych and 
altarpiece of carved wood, representing in a series of 
bassi-relievi, separated by delicate architectural work, the 
various scenes of the Passion. ‘The artist, who is 
worthy of being placed with Michel Colombe, Pieter 
Visscher, Montanez, Cornejo Duque, Berruguete, 
Verbrugger, and other masters of carving, is called 
Bruggmann, a name which is not often mentioned, 
though it deserves to be. By the way, has my reader 
ever noticed how very much less known than painters 
are sculptors, whose talent is equal or even superior to 
that of their brethren of the brush? ‘Their bulkier work, 


which forms part of monuments, cannot be displaced, 


47 


SEAESA ALE SL AAS SHLAA Lette 
TRANCE CS 2aN: Rae 


and does not become an object of trade. Besides, its 
severe beauty, lacking the seductiveness of colour, does 
not attract the attention of the multitude. 

Around the church there are funeral chapels, very 
fancifully funereal, and handsomely decorated. A 
vaulted room contains the tombs of the former dukes 
of Schlesvig ; they are massive stones covered with coats 
of arms and inscriptions in a fairly good style. 

Around Schlesvig stretch vast salt-marshes, which 
communicate with the sea. I walked along the cause- 
way, observing the play of light and the shimmering of 
the gray waters when acted upon by the wind. Some- 
times I went as far as the castle, transformed into a 
barracks, and to the Public Garden, a sort of minia- 
ture Saint-Cloud adorned with a staircase cascade, with 
dolphins and other aquatic monsters, that jet forth no 
liquid. What a: sinecure is the office of Triton ina 
basin in the style of Louis XIV! I should be glad to 
have as good a one. 

Tired of awaiting replies that did not come, and hav- 
ing exhausted the attractions of Schlesvig, I ordered a 
post-chaise and started for L. . . . The drive was long. 
On either side I saw great sheets of water and lagoons. 


The road was bordered by mountain ash, the bright 


48 


oh robe abe abe abe ob ohe abe cbecke coeda be abe abe eel oe be ob 
S GFE: Bisa lh G 


red berries of which delighted my eye with their fiery 


ib 


tones, made more brilliant by the rays of the setting sun. 
Very pretty indeed was this avenue of trees, with its 
crimson umbellz, looking like a coral avenue leading to 
the shell palace of an Undine. Birch trees, ash trees 
and pines followed the mountain ash, and I reached the 
post-house, where we did not change horses, but where 
those I had were fed, while I was drinking a glass of 
beer and smoking a cigar in the low-ceiled room with 
broad, low windows, in which servants stood by postil- 
ions who puffed tobacco smoke out of their porcelain 
pipes, in attitudes and with effects of light that would 
have inspired Ostade or Meissonnier. 

Meanwhile twilight had come on, then night, if a 
superb moonlight can be called night. “The road, longer 
than I had at first supposed, seemed still longer on 
account of my desire to get to my destination. But the 
horses kept on with their quiet little trot, as their phleg- 
matic driver caressed them in a friendly way with his 
whip. 

At every group of houses, the lights of which shone 
like eyes through the foliage, I bent out to see if we 
were nearing the place; for I had on a visiting-card an 


engraving of the chateau, in which I had long been 


VOL. I—4 49 


edt check oh deck ch ch ede cecheah ecb dobek cb cbch 
TRA VAE-L S. (ON) ReGen 


invited to spenda few days. But the end of the trip 
seemed to be constantly drawing farther and farther 
away, and the postilion, who did not seem any longer 
very sure of the way, exchanged a few words with 
the peasants whom he met, or who were attracted 
to their doors by the sound of wheels. 

The road, happily, was still magnificent, still shaded 
by great trees in full leaf, sometimes bordered by quick- 
set hedges, through which the silver moonbeams shone, 
casting upon the sand the queerest shadows. When 
the foliage grew thinner, and allowed the sky to be seen, 
I perceived Donati’s comet flaming and wild, carrying 
away the stars in its golden tail. I had seen it in Paris 
a few days before, but so faint, so pale, so indistinct ! 
In one week, it had grown in a way to terrify an epoch 
more superstitious than ours. 

In this faint, blue light, cut by deep shadows, into 
which the horses entered with a shudder, everything 
assumed strange and fantastic shapes. “The road, follow- 
ing the undulations of the ground, ascended and 
descended. ‘The view of the horizon was concealed 
by the hedges and the trees. I was utterly at a loss to 
know in what direction we were travelling. For one 


moment, I thought we had reached the end of our jour- 


50 


fttbbbbttbtttbbbbhtet dh tts 
S@ErL aw TG 


ney. A handsome dwelling, shining in the silver rays 
of the moon, stood out against a dark background of 
verdure, and its reflections trembled ina pond. It was 
very like what the chateau de L... had been 
described to me as being; but the postilion drove 
on. 

Soon the carriage entered an avenue of very old trees 
which evidently led to a country-seat. On the left 
there was the gleam of waters, and great buildings 
loomed through the foliage, but I could make out 
nothing plainly. Presently the post-chaise swung 
round, and the wheels rattled over a bridge spanning 
a broad ditch. At the end of a bridge a low arch 
showed ina sort of bastion, which only lacked a port- 
cullis. Having passed through this gate, I found my- 
self in a courtyard, circular like the interior of a donjon, 
and the carriage was swallowed up in the darkness of 
another gateway. 

All these things, of which I had a mere glance in 
the moonlight, and which were full of shadows, had a 
feudal and medizval look and a fortress-like aspect 
that somewhat troubled me. I wondered whether, by 
chance, the postilion had made a mistake and driven 


me to the manor of Harold Harfargar or of Bjorn of 


51 


bttettttettettttttttttetes 


we oe oTe ore ore 


TRAVELS AUN: (RGSS 


the Shining Eyes. My trip was turning into some- 
thing legendary and fantastic. 

At last we issued into a vast square, closed on one 
side by great buildings describing a prolonged hemicycle, 
the purpose of which I could not make out in the dark- 
ness, but which looked quite formidable in the obscu- 
rity. The chord of the arc, which seemed to figure 
the interior of a fortification round externally, was 
formed by the manor itself, the imposing mass of 
which, quite isolated, rose from a sort of lagoon. It 
had a roof with blunted angles and a high facade on 
which fell the bluish light of the moon, and sparkled 
here and there a window-pane, like a fish-scale. 

Although it was not yet late, everybody seemed 
asleep in the place. It looked like one of those fairy 
palaces cast under a spell, at which arrives the prince 
who will break the charm. 

The postilion drew up before a bridge that must 
have once been a drawbridge. Then lights shone in 
the windows. The door was opened. Servants ap- 
proached, spoke a few words in German, and took my 
trunks, while looking at me with somewhat distrustful 
surprise. I was unable to ask them any questions, and 


I did not know whether I was really at L. .. . 


52 


nf i 


The bridge spanned a second moat filled with water, 
silver-streaked, and led to a portico flanked by two 
granite pillars through which was reached a vast vesti- 
bule flagged with black and white marble, round which 
ran an oak wainscotting, the capitals of the pilasters 
being gilded. Stags’ heads hung on the walls, and two 
small polished brass cannons were pointed at me. ‘This 
did not strike me as very hospitable— cannons in a 
vestibule in the nineteenth century! I was then shewn 
to a drawing-room furnished with all the refinement of 
modern elegance. 

Among the paintings there was a portrait, the work 
of a famous painter, representing the lady of the house 
in an Oriental dress. I recognised it at once. I was 
not mistaken. A young governess, who had come 
down, received me, speaking to me in unknown 
tongues. 

I showed her the portrait, named the original, and 
handed her the card with the engraving. Her mis- 
trustfulness vanished, and a lovely little girl some ten 
years of age, who until then had kept aside gazing at 
me with the dark, deep glance of childhood, came for- 
ward and said, “ 7 understand French.” I was saved. 


The lady of the castle, who had been called away for 
53 


“TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


a couple of days, was to return on the morrow, and 
had left orders that I was to be looked after. 

Supper was served, and I was taken to my room up 
a monumental staircase that would have held comfort- 
ably a Paris house. ‘he maid placed on a table two 
candlesticks, provided with German tapers as long as 
church candles, and withdrew. 

The room, which formed part of an apartment of 
three or four rooms, was rather fanciful-looking, On 
the mantelpiece, Cupids, lighted up by the red reflec- 
tions and resembling little devils, were warming them- 
selves at a brazier, pretending to represent an allegory 
of Winter; through the windows, the moonbeams, 
brighter than the candlelight, fell in strange forms 
upon the floor. 

Impelled by a feeling analogous to that which causes 
the heroines of Anne Radcliffe to wander with a lamp 
in their hand about the passages in haunted castles, I 
made, before going to bed, a reconnaissance of the place 
where I was. 

At the back of the apartment a small drawing-room, 
adorned with a mirror and furnished with a sofa and 
arm-chairs, contained no place suitable for phantoms. 


The modern look of the steel engravings of Esmeralda 


54 


ie 
it 
os 
Te 
ie 
it 
i> 


che ob abe sober fo ofe ee abe baobab ce ob fob 


roy id os bal BA ec \ RR 


and her goat was reassuring. [he antechamber to 
: my bedroom was more disquieting. ‘The walls were 
covered with old brown tapestries, representing formi- 
dable mastiffs held in leash by negroes, their names 
written beside them. All these animals, in the trem- 
bling light of my taper, seemed to be waving their 
curled-up tails and, opening and closing their mouths 
provided with ivory teeth, to be baying mutely, and to 
be straining at their leashes in an effort to spring at 
me. The negroes rolled their white eyes, and one of 
the dogs, called Raghul, looked savagely at me. Round 
the three rooms ran a lobby which turned back on 
itself. One of the walls, forming a gallery, was cov- 
ered with portraits of ancestors and historical characters : 
men of fierce mien with full-bottomed wigs, steel 
breastplates studded with gold knobs, over which 
hung broad ribbons of orders of knighthood, their hand 
resting on commanders’ batons, like the stone statue 
in “Don Juan,” — every one with his helmet placed 
beside him upon a cushion; noble ladies of high lineage, 
in costumes of different epochs, with old-world graces 
and coquetries from beyond the tomb. ‘There were 
imposing and discontented-looking dowagers, young 


women with powdered hair, in full court dress, with 


55 


Steeteteetteetetteteetttts 
TRA. Vi LG Sane: Roa 


laced waists and vast hoops over which were spread 
full skirts of rose or salmon-coloured damask, brocaded | 
with silver, pointing with negligent hand to coronets 
of gems placed upon tables covered with velvet cloths. 

These noble personages, who had turned wan and 
pale, had an alarmingly spectral appearance. Some of 
the tones had resisted the lapse of time better than 
others, and the unequal decomposition produced the 
strangest effects. One young countess, very charming 
in other respects, had preserved in her bloodless face 
lips of the most brilliant carmine, and blue eyes of 
unchangeable azure. Her living lips and mouth formed 
a weird and very terrifying contrast to her deathly 
pallor. Something seemed to be looking at me through 
the canvas as through a mask. 

The portraits, as numerous as those exhibited by 
Ruy Gomez de Silva to King Carlos, in ‘“* Hernani,” 
filled up the wall to the turn in the passage. 

Having reached that point, —not without having 
experienced the slight shudder which even the bravest 
feel in a dark, unknown, and silent place, when gazing 
at the representation of people who lived in other ages, 
and whose forms thus represented have long since 


fallen to dust, —I hesitated on seeing that the passage 


56 


LESH EEE AAA AAeetttetttst 
S@ERE ES G 


went on indefinitely, full of mystery and darkness. 
The light of my taper did not reach the end, and cast 
upon the wall my grimacing shadow, which accom- 
panied me like a black servant, imitating my gestures 
with gloomy buffoonery. But, determined not to be a 
coward in my own presence, I continued on my way. 
Having reached the middle of the corridor, at a place 
where a projection in the wall took the place of a 
chimney-flue, a grated opening attracted my attention. 
Putting my light close to it, | made out a winding 
stairway, which sank within the very depths of the 
building and went up Heaven knows _ how high. 
The colour of the plastering round the grate proved 
that the opening had been made long after the build- 
ing of the stairway, no doubt when the secret was 
discovered. Plainly, then, the Chateau of L... was 
constructed on the plan of the stage-setting of 
“Angelo, Tyrant of Padua,” and at night steps must 
certainly be audible in the walls. 

The corridor ended in a carefully closed door, more 
recent than the rest of the building; and had I known 
the legend attached to the room thus closed up, I 
should certainly have had nightmare; happily I was 


unaware of it; yet it was not without a slight feeling 


by 


tketee¢ee¢tetettettttttetes 
TRAVELS IN (RUSai4 


of pleasure that the next morning I saw the bright light 
of day filtering through the windows and blinds. 

Once its fanciful nocturnal aspect had vanished, the 
feudal manor turned out to be simply an old chateau 
modernised. It was the spectre of the former dwelling 
revisiting the glimpses of the moon that I had caught 
sight of the night before, and the impression I had felt 
had not been wholly an illusion. The pacific life of 
our own time had taken up its quarters in this group 
of fortresses, leaving the main lines intact, and in the 
darkness a mistake was excusable. ‘The high semicircle 
of buildings, worthy of a princely residence, must have 
been casemates before they were turned into stables 
and offices. The entrance gate, with its two low 
arches, its drawbridge made into a permanent bridge, 
and its broad moat, seemed quite capable even yet of 
resisting an assault. Upon the outer gate a weather- 
worn bas-relief showed faintly a crucified Christ, with 
the holy women, protecting two lines of coats of arms 
in stone, set in the thick brick wall. 

The chateau, surrounded by water on all sides, rested 
upon a foundation of blue granite; its red walls were 
topped with a roof of violet-coloured tiles and pierced 


with windows of very happy proportions. On the 


58 


LEELELLEELLALEPLLEALLLLLA ELSE 
S@ HL BS. Vil G 


opposite facade, in the axis of the vestibule, a bridge 
spanned the outer moat, and a little farther, beyond an 
open space, another bridge spanned the second moat, 
which encircled the dwelling. Beyond that again lay 
the garden. Great trees, vigorous though old, with all 
their foliage intact in spite of the autumn, and artistically 
grouped together, formed as it were the wings of this 
magnificent piece of scenery. A vast sward, as green 
as an English lawn, broken by clumps of geraniums, 
fuschias, dahlias, verbenas, chrysanthemums, Bengal 
roses, and other late-blooming flowers, spread like vel- 
vet up to an arbour, from which opened out a long 
avenue of lime trees, ending in a wall and moat, giving 
a view over luscious meads full of cattle. 

A ball of burnished metal placed upon a broken 
shaft keyed up the prospect, and imparted to it a tone 
of green imitation gold. It is a German fashion for 
which the chatelaine’s taste is not to be blamed. A 
similar ball is placed in the Castle court of Heidelberg. 

On the right a rustic pavilion covered with clematis 
and aristolochia was furnished with sofas and arm- 
chairs, formed of knotty or curiously misshapen 
branches, and a long row of hothouses opened their 


glazed sashes to the warm rays of noonday. ‘These 


59 


LLLAKHEAL LE LSE AeeALALALLLS 
TRAVELS GN RUSSixA 


hothouses, the temperature in each of which was differ- 
ent, opened one into another. In one, orange, lime 
and citron trees, laden with fruit in various stages of 
ripeness, seemed to believe themselves in their native 
country, and not to regret, as did chilly Mignon, the 
land where the citron blooms. In another, cacti 
bristled, banana trees spread out their large, silky 
leaves, orchids swung their light tendrils from lamp- 
bowls of rose-coloured clay. A third contained arbores- 
cent camellias, their metallic foliage diapered with buds. 
Another hothouse was reserved for rare and delicate 
plants, exposed to the sun on benches in the form of 
steps. Painted and gilded cages adorned with glass 
‘beads hung from the ceiling, and were filled with birds 
that, deceived by the warmth, sang and chirruped as in 
springtime. “Ihe last hothouse, decorated with an 
imitation arbour, was used as a gymnasium by the 
children of the family. 

In front of the hothouses a little imitation rockery 
covered with wall plants simulated a fountain, the basin 
of which was formed of the shell of a monstrous shell- 
fish. What a size must have been the mollusc that 
first inhabited this conch, fit to carry Aphrodite over 


the azure sea! A little farther fairly ripe peaches 


60 


S@EPLE SVilLG 


showed their round, velvety cheeks upon their branches 
trained against the wall, and vine plants, the stems of 
which alone were exposed to the open air, were ripen- 
ing beneath glass cases placed against the wall. A 
wood of firs covered with sombre verdure the slope of 
the garden, from which ran a light foot-bridge spanning 
the deep channel, half filled with water. 

I ventured into the wood. ‘The lower branches of 
firs, as is well known, wither as the tree grows and 
raises to heaven its verdant top. “The whole of the 
lower portion of the forest resembled a landscape pre- 
pared in brown, in which the artist, interrupted in his 
work, had had time to put in only a few green touches. 
The sun cast here and there through the tawny warm 
shadows handfuls of ducats, which bounded from branch 
to branch and scattered over the brown earth denuded, 
as in all fir woods, of moss and grass. A suave 
aromatic odour was given out by the trees as they moved 
in the faint breeze, and from the forest issued a vague 
murmur like a sigh breathed by a human being. 

The avenue took me to the edge of the wood, 
separated by a ditch from the plain, in which wandered 
cows and horses at liberty. I retraced my steps and 


returned to the chateau. 


61 


TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


Shortly afterwards the little girl who spoke French 
came to tell me that her mother had arrived. I re- 
lated to the beautiful chatelaine my nocturnal invasion 
of her manor, and expressed the regret that I had not 
with me a dwarf to sound the horn at the foot of her 
donjon. She asked me if I had slept well in spite of 
the peculiar environment of my room, and whether the 
phantom of the starved lady had appeared to me in a 
dream or in reality. 

‘“‘ Every castle has its legend,’’ she said, “ especially 
if it is old. No doubt you noticed that mysterious 
staircase which might be mistaken for a chimney flue. 
It leads to a room which cannot be seen from outside, 
and goes down to the cellars. In that room one of the 
lords of L .. . kept concealed from the eyes of all, 
and especially from the eyes of nis wife, a lovely, de- 
voted mistress, who had accepted that absolute seclusion 
in order to live under the same roof with the man she 
loved. Every night he caused to be prepared a repast 
which he fetched himself from the subterranean kitchen, 
and which he took up to the captive. One day, 
having started on some expedition, he was killed, and 
the prisoner, not receiving her meals, died of hunger. 


Long afterwards, the secret door having been discovered 


62 


bebeettbtettttetetteteted 
S GEL ESavelG 


in the course of some repairs and alterations, there was 
found at the foot of the stairs a dainty female skeleton, 
crouching in an attitude of despair, amid the remains of 
rich stuffs. “Thus was found the sumptuously furnished 
retreat which had turned for the poor girl into a Tower 
of Hunger, more sinister than Ugolino’s prison, for he 
at least had his four sons to eat. Sometimes her shape 
walks at night through the passages, and if she meets a 
stranger, she seems to beg for food with hungry ges- 
tures. I will have a less gloomy room given to you 
this evening.” 

Guided by my hostess I visited a suite of apart- 
ments decorated in the taste of the last century. In 
the dining-room, massive old silver plate and services 
in old Dresden china shone behind the glass of curi- 
ously carved sideboards. ‘The immense drawing-room 
with five windows of a side, was adorned with portraits 
of royal personages hung upon the white and gold 
wainscotting, and from the ceiling hung lustres of 
rock crystal, with transparent branches and cut leaves. 
Near by, a smaller drawing-room hung with green 
damask had nothing particular, save the portrait of a 
nobleman in armour, with flying scarf, wearing the 


orders of the Elephant and of Dannebrog, and smiling 


63 


tttttebedceeeeettttttttes 
TERA VB LS AEN) | Rigas ede 


with a grace that smacked of Versailles. Through the 
painter’s carelessness, the nobleman turned his back on 
the companion painting, representing a young lady 
with powdered hair, in full court dress of apple-green 
taffeta glazed with silver. ‘This fact seemed to trouble 
him a good deal, for he was half looking round. The 
young lady would have been very pretty but for her 
nose, which was aristocratically hooked, and came 
down over her lips like the beak of a parrot eating a 
cherry. Her soft, dull eyes seemed to deplore this 
comically Bourbon nose, that spoiled her lovely face 
in spite of the efforts the artist had made to attenuate it. 

As I was gazing attentively at that strange face, at 
once attractive and ridiculous in spite of its high-bred 
air, my hostess said: — | 

“There is a legend about this painting also: but do 
not fear, it is in no wise dreadful. If you sneeze when 
you pass before the long-nosed countess, she answers 
by a nod or a ‘ God bless you,’ like the portraits hung 
in the rooms of inns in fairy plays. Be careful to 
avoid catching cold and the painting will give no sign 
of life.” 

The bedrooms were furnished with great beds of 


tapestry or damask, the head against the wall, so as to 


64 


Lebo ebeeeeeeeteetbet tes 
SCHLESVIG 


leave a space on either side. The hangings of one of 
the rooms consisted of old-fashioned great distemper 
paintings on canvas set in the panels, and representing 
pastoral scenes, in which the German artist had en- 
deavoured to imitate Boucher’s gallantry and preten- 
sion, but had only attained awkward affectation and 
curious colouring. 

‘Would you like this room?” asked my hostess. 
“Its rococo is very reassuring against nocturnal ter- 
rors.” JI refused, for I did not care to see around me 
in silence and solitude, in the faint light of a lamp or a 
taper, figures which seemed to desire to leave the wall 
and to ask me for the souls the painter has forgotten to 
give them. I made choice of a pretty room hung with 
chintz, with a small modern bed. It was situated at 
the corner of the chateau, and provided with two tall 
windows. ‘There was behind it no dark corridor, no 
spiral staircase, and the walls when struck did not 
sound hollow. The one disadvantage was that to 
reach it I had to pass the lady with the parrot beak; 
and I confess without shame that too polite portraits are 
not to my taste. But I had not got a cold, and the 
young countess could remain quiet in her polished 


frame. 


VOL. I— 5 65 


ELEC ESSE eee eettttte tet 
TRA ViEIL SIN i (RBS sae. 


The most curious thing in the manor was a sixteenth- 
century hall, preserved intact, which made me regret 
that the owners of the place had thought it well at the 
beginning of the last century to renovate the decoration 
of their apartments in the taste of Versailles. It is 
impossible to imagine how despotically that style 
reigned for a long period, and how many beautiful 
things it caused to be destroyed. ‘This hall was wain- 
scotted with small oaken panels, forming frames of 
uniform size, and relieved by a few old arabesques of a 
dull gold that harmonised with the tone of the wood- 
work. Each frame contained an emblematic painting 
in oil, accompanied by a motto in Greek, Latin, Span- 
ish, Italian, German, or French, relating to the subject 
represented. ‘hese inscriptions were moral, gallant, 
chivalrous, Christian, philosophical, proud, refined, 
plaintive, witty, or oracular. In them concetti rivalled 
with agudezzas; puns rubbed up against witticisms ; 
the Latin, in its grim enigmatic concision, assumed 
sphinx-like airs, and looked curiously at the more 
limpid Greek;  Petrarchian  platonisms, amorous 
subtleties after the manner of Scalion de Virbluneau, 
helped to obscure by their explanations the already 


complicated and not very intelligible attributes. Painted 


66 


cl chy abe aby oy che as aby che by abe be chy che che ols che ho che abe ol bred: 
| SCHLESVIG 


thus from plinth to cornice, the hall could have fur- 
nished mottoes for carrousels, “Tembleque garters, 
Albacete navajas, the seals of an engraver’s shop, the 
sweets of a confectioner, the long onion rolls of Saint- 
Cloud; but amid much stupidity, puerility, and subtlety, 
there sometimes flashed out a fine sentence full of 
deep, unexpected meaning, worthy of being inscribed 
upon a lady’s ring or a sword-blade. I am not ac- 
quainted with any similar example of decoration, Of 
course inscriptions and monograms intertwined with 
ornaments are to be met with, but nowhere the 
emblem and the motto taken for unique theme of the 
decoration. 

Now that you are acquainted with the chateau, let 
us take a turn in the neighbourhood. ‘Two jet-black 
ponies, harnessed to a light phaeton, are shaking their 
long manes and stamping impatiently at the end of the 
bridge. My hostess takes the reins in her lovely hands, 
and we are off. We drive rapidly, following a broad 
road through vast meadows, where graze and chew 
their cud more than three hundred cows, posed in a 
way to delight Paul Potter and Troyon. The bulls, 
much better-tempered than the Spanish ones, let us pass 


without any other manifestation than a cross glance, 


67 


eed eee eee 


be ob he he he he be bt 


NeRAWE DS SUN ReGES e 


and go on grazing. Horses, excited by our ponies’ 
speed, accompany us for a time and then leave us. 
The fields extend all round, slightly undulating and 
bounded by earthen dikes topped with hedges. In 
every meadow is a gate formed of two posts and a 
cross-bar, and one has to spring from the phaeton and 
raise the bar, which the spirited little fellows would 
otherwise jump with the carriage. 

In less than twenty minutes we reached a most pic- 
turesque wood planted ona height. Elms, oaks, and 
ash trees with mighty trunks and thick foliage grew in 
the varied attitudes, the quaint forms and the vigorous 
twists of trees growing on a slope. “The wood was full 
of roe deer, and badgers had their abode there, pretty 
sure not to be disturbed by men. Here and there, as 
if to recall the North, pines stretched out their branches 
and raised up their dark-green mass. ‘The freshness of 
the vegetation astonished me, for we were close to the 
sea, the salt breath of which usually burns the foliage. 
But these trees drew abundant sap from the moist 
ground and easily resisted the ocean winds. 

On leaving the wood I saw the gulf spreading out 
into the open ‘sea, the North Sea, the other extremity of 


which beats against the icy cap of the pole, and in 


68 


ip 


she che che abe oe ob oe ob oe abe che cdecde ce cbecbe ohooh obo cbeoh abo 
SCHLESVEG 


winter carries along the ice-floes laden with white bears. 
At this moment it had nothing Arctic about it. A clear 
sky dappled with a few clouds was reflected in it, and 
coloured the gray water with a bluer azure than that of 
our own heavens. A gentle tide caused to wave upon 
the beach the long alge, tough as leather, dragged 
about fragments of shells, and left a long fringe of foam 
upon the shore. 

During the following days we drove greater distances, 
but tall white Mecklenburg horses of less spirited temper 
had taken the place of the little black whirlwinds; a 
martial, phlegmatic-looking coachman drove them. 

I visited a house surrounded like L ... with a 
double ditch, and admired the hall, the ceiling of which 
was ornamented with sculptures in high relief, represent- 
ing muses, winged genii, and musical instruments. The 
sight of an organ caused me to wonder what the purpose 
of the room was, whether a music-room or a chapel. 
The artists of the eighteenth century did not trouble 
much on such points. They willingly confused angels 
and loves, the glories of the opera and the glories of 
paradise. The old lady, the mistress of the house, 
received me in a drawing-room filled with pillars, the 


ceiling curiously adorned with coats of arms and rockery 


69 


ome ote one 


TRAVELS LN | RUSS ie 


work. She caused to be brought a tray of peaches, pears, 
and grapes, in accordance with the hospitable custom 
of the country, where a collation is always served to 
visitors. Near the house spread a garden, or rather a 
park, intersected by avenues of prodigiously tall lime 
trees. Ona basin covered all over with bubbles, a swan 
was Sailing along with curved neck, tearing the glaucous 
surface, which immediately closed behind him. The 
sight of that swan made me remember that there were 
none at LL... , although the engraving I had showed 
them. ‘The preceding winter they had been eaten in 
their house by foxes, which had crossed on the frozen 
waters. Less melodious thantheir brethren of Meander, 
no sound had been heard from them at their last hour, 
and only a few feathers had been found. 

Sometimes our carriage met a humorous and rather 
grotesque spectacle, —a powerful fellow, his cap over 
his ear, his pipe in his mouth, wearing long jackboots, 
and squatting in a child’s carriage, was lazily drawn 
round, not by molossi, great dogs, or mastiffs, such as 
Stevens paints, but by three or four little dogs so abso- 
lutely disproportioned to the weight they drew that one 
could not help laughing. ‘These poor brutes led a dog’s 


life in the full meaning of the expression. While I am 


7O 


bebeetbbtetretettttttttdt 
SOP ES VelG 


talking about dogs, let me remark that in Denmark I 
did not see a single Dane, — that is, of the kind with the 
white coat regularly spotted with black, which often 
have one eye blue and the other brown. ‘They are 
usually mongrel animals without points, cross-bred by 
chance, bastard-like, having no type of their own and 
resembling more street dogs, but conscientiously per- 
forming their duty of escorting carriages and barking 
when entering or going out of a village. 

The villages, or hamlets, are marked by a cieanliness 
and comfort which it is difficult to understand unless 
one has seen them. ‘The houses, regularly built of 
brick and usually roofed with tiles, though sometimes 
with thatch, with clean window-panes, behind which 
bloom rare flowers in porcelain jars, look more like 
small villas than like peasants’ cottages. The suburban 
homes rented at such high prices to Parisians do not 
come up to these pretty golden-red houses, with their 
background of verdure, almost always built on the edge 
of a pond. | 

Nor does the aspect of the inhabitants spoil the 
effect of the picture. Their dress is neither ragged 
nor mean. ‘The men wear caps with broad Prussian 


visors, their trousers tucked into their boots, short vests, 


71 


Stte¢e¢¢eetetetettetetese 
TRAVELS AN ROSSTPA 


and long-skirted frock-coats ; the women, short-sleeved 
dresses, opened well out on the bosom; and they 
usually go about bareheaded. It made me shiver to 
see them— for the weather was already cool —in 
light print dresses striped with lilac, rose, or blue; their 
red arms, marked with blood like those in paintings by 
Jordaéns, had the robustness acquired by the portions 
of the body exposed to the air. Yet their flesh tones, 
too strongly vermilion, proved that they were not in- 
sensible to atmospheric influences. But this fashion is 
followed only by women of the lower classes and ser- 
vants, — ladies, as everywhere else, dressing in the 
French style. 

I spent another day on an excursion to Eckernfoerde, 
a small town some miles from L. . . . The road ran 
between hedges diapered with berries of all colours, 
mulberries, rowan, sloe, and barberry, besides those pretty 
coral hips which survive the blooming of the wild rose ; 
so it was charming. At other times we passed beautiful 
great trees, or through little villages, or by fields which 
teams of splendid horses were harrowing in circular 
fashion, as if they proposed to make the land resemble 
watered silk. Finaily we reached the seashore by a 


road bathed by the waves on the one hand, and on the 


72 


tttbebebebeeetetedttdddvtcdkex 
SGHLESWiiG 


other ornamented with elegant homes half concealed in 
flowers, which are let for the season to summer visitors ; 
for L . . . is a seaside resort like Trouville or Dieppe, 
in spite of its somewhat northern latitude. The 
bathing-houses and bathing-huts scattered over the 
beach proved that intrepid members of both sexes still 
fearlessly faced the icy waves. A few trading-brigs 
swung at their anchors in the harbour. 

Eckernfoerde, save that it has the peculiar character 
given to every town by shipping mingling with trees 
and chimneys, is not very different from Schlesvig 
from an architectural point of view. It has the same 
brick churches, the same houses with broad transversal 
bays, through which, behind pots of flowers, one gets 
a glimpse of low-necked women busy sewing. An 
unusual bustle enlivened the streets of Eckernfoerde, 
which are usually more than dull. Heavy carts were 
carrying off to their respective districts soldiers on 
furlough or mustered out. Although crowded most 
incommodiously, the men seemed intoxicated with joy, 
and perhaps also with beer. 

At the chateau the days went by diversified by walks, 
fishing, conversation, smoking, and my nights were 


not haunted by any unpleasant phantoms: the starved 
OSE Sea tian het all SRN SN 
73 


—— 


ALELEALLLALLALALL LALLA L LSS 
TRA VES aw ieee 


lady did not come to beg for food; the princess with 
the parrot beak had no opportunity to say ‘¢ God bless 
you”? to me. Once only a storm of rain driven by 
a terrible wind lashed my windows, with sinister sounds 
resembling the flapping of owls’ wings. ‘The sashes 
trembled, the woodwork creaked strangely, the reeds 
rustled noisily, the waters lapped the bottom of the 
wall. From time to time a gust smashed against the 
door like some one who had no key and was trying to 
enter; but no one did come in, and little by little the 
sighs, the murmurs, the moans, all the inexplicable 
sounds of night died out in a deep decrescendo which 
Beethoven himself could not have graduated better. 
The next day the weather was lovely, and the clean 
sky shone more brilliantly. I should have liked to 
remain, but if it be true that all roads lead to Rome, 
it is not quite so sure that they also lead to St. 
Petersburg, and I had somewhat forgotten the purpose 
of my trip in the delights of the enchanted castle. 
The carriage took me to Kiel, where I was to take 
the train for Hamburg, and thence to Lubec to ship 


on board the steamer ‘ Neva.” 


14 


bebtbbbbbbethdbbbtat ee 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


checked eo oe eae oe ob aed deco ole ce cece ok deck 
LUBEC 


HAD to go to Kiel to get to the railway. There 
the rain began to fall, light at first, then in tor- 
rents, but it did not prevent my traversing under 

my umbrella the handsome promenade by the seaside 
until the time the train started for Hamburg. 

Hamburg is worth seeing again, and I enjoyed wan- 
dering once more through its animated, living, pictur- 
esque streets. On the way I noticed a number of 
details that had escaped me; for instance, the wooden 
boxes, iron-bound and padlocked, at the corner of the 
bridges, where, with a picture on which, to excite the 
pity of the peasants, are collected in artless fashion all 
imaginable maritime disasters, tempests, thunderstorms, 
fires, huge billows, sharp reef:, capsized vessels, sailors 
clinging to the tops and illustrating through the foam 
Virgil’s classic line, — 

<« Rari nantes in gurgite vasto.’’ 
Often a sailor, tanned by the suns of other climes, 


puts his hand into his tarry pocket and throws a shilling 


75 


LLteee bee eeebetbetbeetees 
TRAVELS IN RGSS 


into the box. A little girl stands on tiptoe to intrust 
her mite to it. These contributions form a fund dis- 
tributed, I believe, to the families of shipwrecked 
mariners. There is something religious and poetic 
about these boxes, intended to collect alms for the 
victims of the ocean, placed within a few steps of 
the ships about to go down unto the deep. Human 
solidarity forsakes none of its members, and the 
seaman sails away less anxious than he would other- 
wise be. 

The next evening the railway took me to Lubec, 
through beautiful cultivated land, and summer resi- 
dences laved by brownish waters bordered by willows. 
The Hamburg Venice has its Brenta Canal, the villas 
on which, though not built by Sammichele or Palladio, 
nevertheless look very well against their fresh green 
backgrounds. 

On alighting from the carriage, a private omnibus 
picked me up and took me with my luggage to the 
Hotel Duffckes. When I saw it in the darkness by 
the faint light of the street lamps, the town struck me 
as picturesque, and the next morning when I opened 
my window, I saw at once that I had not been mis- 


taken. The house opposite had a very German look. 


76 


== 


btete¢tttttetttthttttte tee 
LbUBEG 


It was extremely high, with an old-fashioned gable. 
It had no less than seven stories, but the windows 
diminished in number in the gable. ‘The highest story 
had only one light. At every story iron bars in the 
form of crosses blossomed out in lovely iron-work, 
acting both as supports and ornaments to the building, 
—an excellent principle in architecture, which is too 
much forgotten to-day. It is not by concealing, but 
on the contrary by accentuating, the framework of the 
building that character is obtained. 

Nor was this house the only one of the kind, as I 
readily ascertained after proceeding a short distance 
down the street. Modern Lubec is still, so far as out- 
ward appearance goes at least, mediaeval Lubec, the 
old city, the chief city of the Hanseatic League. 
Modern life goes on in the old city. The side-scenes 
have not been disturbed too much, nor has the back- 
drop been unskilfully repainted. What a pleasure it 
is to wander about thus among the forms of the past, 
and to behold intact the dwellings inhabited by van- 
ished generations! No doubt living man has a right 
to mould for himself a shell to suit his own habits, 
tastes, and manners; but a new city is far less interest- 


ing than an old town. 


77 


betetttetttettttttttttts 
TRA VE UCSTeAN) OR Gessaeen 


On leaving the hotel, a piece of carving set within 
the wall attracted my glance, in quest of curiosities. 
Carving is rather rare in brick countries. This piece 
of work represented nymphs, nereids, or sirens, very 
pleasantly ornamental and chimerical in character, sup- 
porting great coats of arms in the German taste, — an 
excellent decorative theme when properly employed, 
and the Middle Ages knew how to employ it. 

A cloister, or at least the gallery of some old monas- 
tery, next turned up. ‘This portico runs along a square, 
at the back of which rises the Marienkirche, a brick 
church of the fourteenth century. Proceeding farther, 
I soon reached the market-place, where I was recom- 
pensed for much of my weariness by a monument of a 
new, unexpected, original aspect. ‘The old City Hall, 
which was formerly the meeting-place of the Hanseatic 
League, rose suddenly before me. It occupies two 
sides of the square. Imagine in front of the Marien- 
kirche, the spires and oxidized copper roof of which 
rise above it, a high brick facade, blackened by time, 
with three belfries, with pointed, verdigrised roofs; the 
facade itself cut out by two great rose windows, without 
interior tracery and covered with coats of arms, in- 


scribed within the trefoils of the Gothic arches, bearing 


78 


ry 


bebtebeeteetetetttteitettes 


EU BiG 
double-headed eagles sable on a field or, shields parti 


of gules and argent ranged alternately, and of the 
proudest heraldic port. 

Against this facade stands a stone palazzino of the 
Renaissance, in a very different taste, the grayish-white 
tone of which stands out admirably from the dark-red 
background of the old bricks. ‘This palace, with its 
three volute gables, its fluted Ionic pillars, its caryatids, 
or rather its Atlases, for they are men, its semicircular 
windows, its shell-like niches, its gallery pierced with 
windows, with triangular pediments, its arcades deco- 
rated with figures, its lower courses cut in facets, pro- 
duces the most unexpected and delightful architectural 
dissonance. There are very few buildings of that 
style and of that time to be met with in the North. 
The Reformation cared little for the return to pagan 
ideas and to classical forms, modified by a graceful 
fancy. 

On the other part of the facade, at right angles to 
this, the old German recovers its supremacy. Brick 
arches, supported by short granite columns, bear up a 
gallery with ogival windows. A row of coats of arms, 
inclined from right to left, exhibit their enamels and 


colours against the darks «tint. of:\\the wall. © This 


lied 


LLELLALELLLALALLELLLALL ESSA 
TRAV, EB US OaaN. OR Giese 


simple ornamentation is uncommonly characteristic 
and rich. 

The gallery leads to a main building, which the 
fancy of a scene-painter, in search of a motive for the 
back-drop of an opera, could not make more singular 
and picturesque. The sharp lines of five turrets, 
topped by pepper-pot roofs, rise above the top line of 
the facade, itself broken by tall ogival windows, most 
of them unfortunately half bricked up and spoiled, no 
doubt on account of internal alterations. Eight great 
discs, with gold backgrounds representing radiant suns, 
double-headed eagles, and the argent and gules coat of 
arms of Lubec, bloom splendidly upon this quaint 
architecture. Below, arcades with squat pillars open 
their sombre mouths, within which sparkle faintly the 
show-windows of goldsmiths’ shops. 

Turning towards the square, the green spires of 
another church are seen beyond the houses, and above 
the heads of the women selling fish and vegetables, the 
lines of a small edifice with brick pillars, which must 
formerly have been a pillory. It gives a final touch to 
the perfectly Gothic appearance of the square, un- 
spoiled by any modern houses. 


It suddenly occurred to me that the superb City Hall 


80 


bebbbbtttttttbbbttttbbtst 
| EUBEC 


must have another facade. I was right, for having 
passed under an archway, I found myself in a broad 
street, and there I again began to admire. 

Five pillars, half engaged in the wall, and separated 
by long ogival windows,: partly bricked up, repeated, 
though in a varied form, the facade I have just de- 
scribed. This one is marked by curious brick-work 
designs, in the form of roses, carried out in square 
points, like embroidery models. At the foot of the 
sombre edifice, a pretty little Renaissance lodge, built 
later, gives access to an outer stairway, that climbs the 
wall diagonally up to a muirador, or projecting window, 
in the most delightful taste. Dainty statues of Faith 
and Justice, gallantly draped and playing with their 
attributes, decorate this portico. 

The stairway, carried upon arches, which grow 
larger as they ascend higher, is ornamented with carya- 
tids and masks. ‘The mirador, placed above the ogival 
door leading to the market, is crowned with an irregular, 
voluted pediment, in which a figure of Themis holds 
the scales in one hand, and the sword in the other, not 
forgetting meanwhile to make her drapery puff out 
coquettishly. A curious order formed of fluted pilas- 


ters, cut in Hermes shape, and supporting busts, divides 


VOG.1L—-0 ro 


ttte¢tibtetetttettttetettese 
TRAV Ess SEN PRS See 


the windows of this aerial cage. Brackets with fanci- 
ful masks complete this elegant ornamentation, over 
which time has passed its hand just sufficiently to give 
to the carvings that particular soft touch which nothing 
can imitate. 

The remainder of the building is of similar architec- 
ture. Along it runs a stone frieze of masks, small 
figures, and foliage, all weather-worn, blackened and 
dirtied so that scarcely anything can be made out. 
Under a porch supported by Gothic pillars of polished 
granite, on either side of the door, I observed two 
benches, the outer arms of which are formed of two 
thick bronze slabs representing, the one an emperor, 
crowned and holding the orb and the hand of justice ; 
the other a wild man as hairy as a wild beast, armed 
with a club and bearing a shield with the coat of arms 
of Lubec. This is very old work. 

The Marienkirche, which, as I have said, is behind 
the City Hall, is worth visiting. Its two steeples are 
four hundred and eight feet high. A _ beautifully tra- 
ceried pillar rises from the roof at the intersection of the 
transept and the nave. The Lubec steeples are peculiar 
in this, that they are every one of them out of plumb 


and lean to the right or left very plainly, without, 


82 


btebtbbbbbebbttebebttztetét det 
BU BiG 


however, giving any anxiety, as does the Tower degli 
Asinelli at Bologna, or the Leaning Tower at Pisa. 
From a distance, these drunk, staggering steeples, with 
their painted caps, which seem to salute the horizon, 
form a strange and delightful silhouette. 

On entering the church, the first curiosity met with 
is an old copy of the Todtentanz, or Dance of Death, 
in the cemetery at Basle. I need not describe it in 
detail. The Middle Ages invented numerous variants 
of this funereal theme. Most of them are collected in 
this gloomy painting, which covers every one of the 
walls of a chapel. From the Pope and the emperor 
down to the child in his cradle, every human being in 
turn dances with the unavoidable scarecrow. Death 
is not represented by a clean, white, polished skeleton, 
hinged with brass, like skeletons in an anatomical 
museum; that would be too pretty for old Mob. It 
shows in the condition of a body more or less decom- 
posed ; bits of hair still stick to its skull, and black- 
ish loam still fills its half-emptied eyes; the skin on 
its bosom hangs like a ragged napkin; its flattened 
stomach sticks hideously to the vertebrz, and its mus- 
cles, laid bare, fall round the leg bones like broken 


strings round a violin handle. None of the hideous 


83 


BLELLALLA LEAL LAL LALLL EES 
TRAV E LSP RUSSIA 


secrets stolen from the privacy of the tomb are passed 
over. 

The Greeks respected death, and represented it only 
in the form of a handsome sleeping youth; but the 
Middle Ages, less delicate, dragged off its shroud and 
exposed it bare, with its horror and its misery, the pious 
intention being to edify the living. On this mural 
painting, Death has so little shaken off the thick humus 
of the grave that the curious eye might mistake it for 
a consumptive negro. 

Very rich and highly ornamented tombs, with statues, 
allegories, attributes, coats of arms, long epitaphs in- 
scribed on the walls or suspended from groups of pillars, 
forming a sepulchral chapel, as in the church dei Frari 
in Venice, make of the Marienkirche an interior worthy 
of Pieter Neeffs, the painter in ordinary to cathedrals. 

The Marienkirche contains also two paintings by 
Overbeck: ‘The Descent from the Cross,” and 
“The Entry into Jerusalem,” both greatly admired in 
Germany. ‘They are inspired by pure religious senti- 
ment, and full of the emotionality and suavity of the 
master, but these are spoiled for me by an affectation of 
archaism and deliberate artlessness. For the rest, the 


delicacy of the execution proves that Overbeck studied 


84. 


—————eE ———" ! a 


LEPADLALLALALDLLAELALAL ALAS ALS 
LUBEC 


the delightful early masters of the Umbrian School. 
Both in this building and in the painting by him in 
the Pinacothek at Munich, fair Germany has asked of 
Italy the secret of art. 

The cathedral, which is also called the Dom, is quite 
remarkable internally. In the centre of the nave, fill- 
ing up the whole arcade, a colossal Christ in the Gothic 
style is nailed upon a traceried cross adorned with 
arabesques. ‘The foot of the cross rests upon a trans- 
verse beam running from one pillar to the other, which 
bears the holy women and pious personages in attitudes 
of adoration and grief. On either side Adam and Eve 
arrange as decently as they may their terrestrial paradise 
costume; under the cross blossoms a pendentive or 
» keystone, exceedingly rich and ornate, on which rests 
a long-winged angel. 

This work thus suspended, and, in spite of its mass, 
light to the eye, is of wood, wrought with much skill 
and taste. I cannot give a better idea of it than by 
saying that it is a portcullis of sculpture, half lowered 
across the choir. It is the first instance I have seen of 
such an arrangement. 

Behind it rises the jvbé, with its three arches, its 


gallery of statues, its mechanical clock, —the hours. 


85 


shee oe bea abe abe ch cde cdecbe lec cbe cde ecto he ob 
WRAVELS at RUS oT 


struck by a skeleton and an angel bearing the cross. 
The font is in the form of a carefully wrought small 
building, with granite pillars, between which is seen 
a group representing Jacob wrestling with the angel. 
The cover is formed of the dome of the monument, 
and is raised by a cord hung from the ceiling. I shall 
not mention the tombs, the funeral chapels, the organs, 
but merely add a couple of words about two paintings 
in fresco or distemper, accompanied by a long inscrip- 
tion in Latin pentameters, in one of which is seen 
the miraculous stag set free by Charlemagne, with a 
collar bearing the date of its freedom, and in the 
other, the same stag taken four or five hundred years 
later by a hunter, at the very spot where now rises the 
church. 

The Holstienthor or Holstein Gate, which is close to 
the railway station, is one of the most curious and 
picturesque specimens of German medizval architec- 
ture. Two huge brick towers, connected by a build- 
ing in which opens a circular arch, form the motive ; 
but it is difficult to imagine the effect produced by the 
height of the building, the pointed roofs of the towers, 
the fanciful dormer windows, and the dark-red or deep 


purple tones of the weather-worn brick. 


86 


tebbbttteetttttttttettettt 
PUB Ee 


On following the quay, along which runs the rail- 
way, with its goods trains, one enjoys a most entertain- 
ing and varied prospect. On the other bank of the 
Trave, vessels and boats in different states of progress 
show among the cottages and clumps of trees. Now 
it is a wooden-ribbed hull resembling the skeleton of a 
stranded whale; now a hull planked all over, near 
which smokes the calker’s tar caldron, from which 
escape golden clouds. Everywhere a delightful swarm- 
ing of human activity. The carpenters hammer and 
nail, the porters push the barrels, the sailors are holy- 
stoning the decks of the ships or else hoisting the sails 
to dry them in the sun; an arriving vessel comes up 
close to the quay, displacing the flotilla, that opens for 
a moment to give it passage; steamers are getting up 
or blowing off steam; and on turning towards the city, 
above the spars of the vessels show the steeples of the 


churches gracefully raked like a clipper’s masts. 


87 


HE “Neva” started on time, going at half 
speed down the meanderings of the Trave, 
the banks of which are covered with pretty 
country homes, the summer resorts of the rich inhabi- 
tants of Lubec. As we neared the sea, the stream 
broadened, the shores became lower, and the navigable 
channel was marked by buoys. I am very fond of 
flat landscapes ; they are more picturesque than people 
believe. A tree, a house, a steeple, a boat’s sail, be- 
come extremely important in them, and suffice, with 
a faint receding background, to make up a picture. 

On the narrow line between the pale blue of the 
heavens and the pearl gray of the waters showed the 
silhouette of a town or large village, probably ‘Trave- 
miinde.. Then the shores receded more and more, 
became lower, and finally vanished. As we proceeded 
the water turned greener. Its undulations, faint at 
first, became more marked and changed into waves. 


Whitecaps shook their foamy crests on top of the 


88 


es 


a ae 


checked ce be chee oferta oadede oc each abe cbee 
TH E ‘SBA! PASSAGE 


billows. The horizon was closed by that bar of a 
hard blue which is, as it were, the signature of the 
ocean. We were at sea. 

Marine painters appear to be very anxious to paint 
the water transparent, and when they succeed, this 
epithet is applied to their work with eulogy. Yet the 
sea itself is marked by a heavy, thick, solid, peculiarly 
opaque look. It is not possible for an observing eye 
to mistake its dense, heavy water for fresh water. No 
doubt when a sunbeam strikes slantingly through a 
wave, it imparts partial transparency to it, but the 
general tone is almost mat. Its local strength is such 
that the nearer portions of the sky appear discoloured 
by it. By the gravity and intensity of the tints, one 
knows that the element is formidable, irresistible, 
energetic, and of prodigious mass. 

On entering the open sea even the most fearless, 
the most courageous, and those who are best used to 
it, experience a certain solemn impression. For it is 
leaving the land,— where no doubt death may over- 
take one, but where at least the ground does not open 
under one’s feet, in order to traverse the vast salt 
plain, the epidermis of the abyss which covers so many 


lost ships. One is separated from the surging depths 


89 


teteeteteeceteetetttettetetst 
TRAY ELS Ri. 


by a mere thin plank of wood or sheet of iron which 
a wave can burst open ora reef cut in two. All that 
is needed to capsize the ship is a sudden squall, a shift 
of wind, and then the swimmer’s skill serves only to 
prolong his agony. 

The sun went down in a bank of gray clouds, the 
edges of which it reddened, and which the wind soon 
swept away. The horizon is a solitary waste; no 
more vessels show upon it. Under the pale-violet sky 
the sea darkens and assumes a sinister tone; by-and- 
by the violet turns into steel blue, the water becomes 
quite black, and the whitecaps gleam on it like silver 
tears upon a funeral pall. Myriads of green-gold stars 
constellate the heavens, and a comet displaying its vast 
tail seems about to dive into the sea. For one moment 
the tail is cut by a narrow passing cloud. 

The next morning the sun rose heavy-eyed, like one 
who has slept badly, and with difficulty pushed away 
its misty curtains. Its pale-yellow beams emerged out 
of the vapour and spread through from between the 
clouds like the golden rays of halos. “The breeze was 
fresher, and the ships which showed from time to 
time on the horizon line, performed strange parabole. 


Towards evening the skies darkened, the rain began to 


go 


— Er 


the oe be ode che be abe abe he oe obec ecb hea feof deo be oo 
WEL EH SS beat PASS A G E 


fall, light at first, then heavy, and, as the saying is, the 
rain beat down the wind, greatly diminishing the sharp- 
ness of the breeze. From time to time flashed in the 
darkness the white or red light, fixed or revolving, of 
a lighthouse, pointing out the shore to be avoided. 
We had entered the Gulf. 

When day dawned, low flat land — forming an al- 
most imperceptible line between sea and sky, and which 
might have been mistaken for a morning mist, or the 
spray of waves — showed on our right. Sometimes even 
the land, owing to the curvature of the sea, was invis- 
ible. Rows of trees, faintly looming up, seemed to 
emerge from the waters. ‘The same effect was pro- 
duced by dwellings and the lighthouses, the white towers 
of which were often mingled with the sails of vessels. 

We passed close to an islet of barren rocks on our 
left ; at least they appeared barren from where we saw 
them. ‘I’here seemed to be a great many boats about 
its shores, and before I used my glasses I mistook the 
sails, turned towards the rising sun against the violet 
background of the shore, for the facades of houses. 
But when | examined it more closely, the island proved 
to be deserted, and had merely a look-out built upon 


a slope. 


gl 


SEELLLLELLAALEALALLALALELS 
TRAVE USTIN: RUSS se 


The third night fell upon the waters. It was the 
last we were to spend on board, for the next day at 
eleven, if nothing delayed us, we were to be in sight 
of Cronstadt. I remained a long time on deck, de- 
voured by feverish curiosity, and gazing into the dark- 
ness, dotted here and there with red sparks of shore 
lights. At last, after two or three hours’ sleep, I went 
on deck again, forestalling the dawn, which was lazy 
that day; at least, so it seemed to me. 

Who is there that has not experienced the curious 
sensation which immediately precedes dawn? The air 
is always damp, icy, shivery. Strong men feel anxious; 
the sick feel their strength ebbing away; fatigue be- 
comes greater; the phantoms of darkness, the nocturnal 
terrors seem, as they flee away, to touch one with cold, 
bat-like wings. It is a time when men recall the dead 
and the absent; when they look back with melancholy 
glance upon their past lives, and regret the home they 
have voluntarily abandoned. But with the first beam 
of the sun, all these things are forgotten. 

A steamer, dragging behind it its long plume of 
smoke blown down on the water, passed on our 
right. It was coming from Cronstadt and was bound 


westward. 


Q2 


——— a = 


deeb heh check chch cheb cheba heh 
ECHE SBA PASSAGE 


The gulf narrowed more and more. ‘The low-lying 
shores were now bare, now covered with summer 
verdure ; watch towers rose from the waves; vessels 
and ships came and went along the channel marked by 
buoys; the shallower sea had changed colour as we 
neared the land. Gulls, the first we had seen, were 
swooping round gracefully. ‘Through my glasses | 
saw ahead of us two rose spots dotted with black, a 
spangle of gold and a spangle of green, a few tenuous 
threads like cobwebs, wisps of white smoke ascend- 
ing into the motionless, perfectly pure air. It was 
Cronstadt. 

In Paris during the war, I had seen a good many 
more or less imaginary plans of Cronstadt, with the 
cross-fire of the guns figured by multiple lines, like 
the rays of a star, and | had taxed my imagination to 
represent the city as it really was, without, however, 
succeeding in doing so. The most detailed plans do 
not give the faintest idea of the actual appearance of a 
place. 

The paddle-wheels, churning the calm and almost 
stagnant water, drove us along rapidly, and I could 
already plainly make out on our left a round fort with 


four stories of embrasures, and on our right a square 


93 


kebttets ttbbbtttthttsh 


abe obs aby obs obs che aby ohn eho ch 


TRAV HES LN? ARE. 


bastion commanding the pass. Water-line batteries 
showed low down. ‘The yellow spangle had changed 
into a golden dome wondrously brilliant and transparent. 
The whole of the light was concentrated upon one 
point, and the shadowed parts were of an exquisitely 
delicate amber tone. ‘The green spangle was a dome 
painted in that colour, and could have been mistaken 
for oxidised copper. A golden dome and a green 
cupola — Russia at our first glance had shown itself 
with its characteristic colours. 

On the bastion rose one of those tall signalling masts 
which look so well in marine views, and behind a 
granite breakwater were the warships, housed for the 
winter. Numerous vessels, bearing the colours of all 
nations, filled the port, and formed with their masts 
and rigging a sort of pine forest, half the boughs of 
which had been cut off. A rigging machine, with its 
derricks and blocks, rose at the corner of the quay, 
where lay piles of squared timber. Farther back were 
seen the houses of the town, painted in various colours, 
some with green roofs, but all very low, the horizontal 
line they formed being topped only by the domes of 
churches surrounded by their little cupolas. Very 
strongly fortified cities show very little to the eye, as 


94 


betebebetetrteteeettttt cet 
fie ES A PASS A GE 


well as to guns. Of course perfection would be 
attained if they were not seen at all, and this no doubt 
will be managed some day. 

From a building with a Greek front, either the 
Custom House or the Police Headquarters, came away 
boats, pulling hard toward our steamer, which had 
anchored in the roads. It reminded me of the visits 
of the health officers in the Levant, where fellows much 
more plague-stricken than we were, and breathing dis- 
infectants, came to take our papers at the end of long 
pairs of tongs. Everybody was on deck; and in a 
boat which seemed to wait until, every formality hav- 
ing been fulfilled, some traveller should land at Cron- 
stadt, I saw my first moujik. 

He was a man of twenty-eight to thirty years of age, 
with long hair parted in the middle, a slightly curly 
blond beard like that which painters give to Jesus 
Christ, with well-formed limbs, and handling with ease 
his pair of sculls. He wore a rose-coloured shirt, 
drawn in at the waist, the tails of which, left out of 
the trousers, formed a sort of graceful tunic or jacket. 
The full, blue cloth trousers, with many folds, were 
stuffed into the boots. His head-dress consisted of 


a toque, or small flat-crowned hat, smaller in the 


95 


cece obe eo oh deck ch abetted cdecdecbe adeeb check cheek 
TRAY ELS? DNR Soe 


middle and flaring out at the top and with a circular 
brim. 

Brought alongside by their boats, the employees of 
the police and the Custom House, wearing long coats 
and the Russian cap, and most of them decorations or 
medals, climbed up on deck and performed their part 
very politely. We went down to the main saloon to 
have our passports returned to us, for on starting they 
had been handed to the Captain. There were Eng- 
lishmen, Germans, Frenchmen, Greeks, Italians, and 
members of other nationalities. “Io my great surprise, 
the police officer, quite a young man, changed his 
language with every person, and replied in English to 
the English, in German to the Germans, and so on, 
without ever making a mistake as to the nationality. 
Like Cardinal Angelo Mai, he seemed to know every 
tongue. When my turn came, he returned my passport, 
saying in the purest Parisian accent, “*‘ You have been 
long expected in St. Petersburg.” ‘The truth is I had 
taken the longest way round, and spent a month in 
making a journey which can be done ina week. To 
the passport was affixed a paper in three languages 
stating the formalities to be fulfilled on reaching the 
city of the Czars. 


96 


ftbbtbebttbtebbbthtthttt tet 


TEE SHHPAY PAs AGE 


The steamer started again, and standing on the 
prow, I watched eagerly the marvellous prospect which 
unfolded itself before me. We had entered that arm 
of the sea into which flows the Neva, and which 
looked more like a lake than a gulf. As we were in 
the centre of the channel, the shores on either hand 
were scarcely visible. The water, widely outspread, 
seemed to be higher than the land, as yet thin as a 
pencil-stroke on a water-colour drawing in flat tints. 
The weather was superb; a brilliant though cold light 
fell from the clear sky. It was a Northern azure, a 
polar azure, so to speak, with gradations and tones of 
opal and steel, of which our own sky can give no 
idea, —a pure, white, sidereal light, seeming not to come 
from the sun, and such as we imagine when in dreams 
we are transported into another planet! Under this 
milky vault, the vast gulf was coloured with indescrib- 
able tints, wholly lacking the ordinary tones of water. 
Sometimes it was pearly white, like the interior of 
certain shells; sometimes an incredibly delicate pearl- 
gray; then again, blue, mat, or striated like Damascus 
blades ; or else, again, iridescent reflections like those 
that shimmer on the surface of molten tin; a zone 


polished as ice followed a broad band goffered like 


VOL. 1—7 97 


ALELEALLELLELAELALALLALLALL SS 
TRAVELSTIN? ig sper 


watered silk; but all so light, so soft, so vague, so 
limpid, so clear, that no palette could reproduce it, no 
vocabulary suffice to describe it. “The purest tones of 
a painter’s brush would have made a spot of mud, as it 
were, upon that ideal transparency, and the words that 
I am using to render that marvellous light seem to me 
like blots of ink falling from a pen and splashing on 
the finest azure-coloured parchment. When a vessel 
happened to pass near us, its tone of reality, its salmon- 
coloured spars and its sharp details, made it resemble, 
in this celestial blue, a balloon floating in the air. 
Nothing can be imagined more fairy-like than that 
luminous infinity. 

In the distance rose slowly between the milky water 
and the milky sky above, with its mural crown crenel- 
lated with towers, the magnificent outline of St. Peters- 
burg, the amethyst tones of which separated by a line of 
demarcation the two pallid immensities. Gold sparkled 
in spangles and flashes upon that diadem, the richest 
and handsomest ever worn on a city’s brow. St. 
Isaac’s showed between its four belfries its tiara-like 
gold cupola. The Admiralty’s dazzling spire rose in 
the heavens; the domes of the Church of St. Michael 


the Archangel swelled in Muscovite fashion; the cross- 


98 


St¢pebbtetettt edt tteetd dts 
Pin SRA PAS AGE 


crocketed pyramidions of the Church of the Horse 
Guards, stood boldly out, and an immense number of 
more distant steeples gleamed with metallic lustre. 
Nothing could be finer than that golden city, set on 
a silver horizon, in which the evening light had all the 


paleness of the dawn. 


99 


ebb bbb bbb aba ok ket 
LRA ELS LN GR Gapee 


decked coh os che oh cb ab ache ddeckeoe ora echo oh check 
ST. PETERSBURG 


HE Neva is a handsome river about as broad 
as the Thames at London Bridge. It has 
not a very long course. It issues from Lake 

Ladoga, not far away, the surplus waters of which it 
pours into the Gulf of Finland. A few turns of the 
paddle wheels brought us up to a granite quay, along- 
side which lay a whole flotilla of smaller steamers, 
schooners, and barques. 

On the other side, that is, on the right as we 
ascended the current, rose the roofs of immense sheds 
in building-yards; on the left, great buildings with 
palatial facades, which, I was told, were the Mining 
Department and the Naval School. 

It is no slight matter to trans-ship the luggage, trunks, 
valises, bandboxes, packages of all kinds, which en- 
cumber the decks of a steamer at the time of debarka- 
tion, and to recognise one’s property in the mass. A 


swarm of moujiks soon carried away all the luggage to 


100 


i Ot 


it 
ib 
ie 
i> 
i} 
it 


betbetetttttetttee 
ob.) Pi Pai ERS RG 


the Customs Inspection Office on the quay, each of 
them followed by disquieted owners. 

Most of these moujiks wore a pink shirt over their 
trousers in jacket fashion, full trousers, and long boots. 
Others, although the temperature was unseasonably 
warm, already wore their tu/upes, or sheepskin coats. 
These coats are worn with the wool inside, and when 
new the tanned skin is of a pale-salmon colour rather 
pleasant to the eye; they are ornamented with stitching, 
and the whole thing is rather characteristic. “The 
moujik clings to his tulupe as does the Arab to his 
burnouse; once he puts it on he does not take it off; 
it becomes his tent and his bed; he lives in it night 
and day, sleeps in it in any corner, on any bench, on 
any stove. So the coat soon becomes greasy, shiny, 
glazed, and acquires those brown tones that Spanish 
painters love to reproduce in their picaresque paintings. 
But, unlike the models of Ribera and Murillo, the 
moujik is clean under his dirty coat, for he takes a 
vapour bath once a week. ‘These light-haired, broad- 
bearded men, wearing the skins of animals, on that 
magnificent quay, from which gilded domes and spires 
are seen in either direction, excite the foreigner’s im- 


agination by the contrast they present. Yet do not 


IOI 


SEPED ALE PA SLEAALALALALAE ALLS 
TD REANV\E DC SaMEN REE sale 


imagine that they have anything fierce or terrifying 
about them; on the contrary, they have very intelligent 
faces, and their polished manners would shame our 
brutal porters. 

Having fulfilled the formalities at the Custom House, 
the passengers were free to scatter through the city. A 
multitude of drojkis, and small carts for the transporta- 
tion of luggage, were waiting outside the Custom 
House, sure of not lacking clients. I did know in 
French the name of the place to which I had been told 
to go, but I had to translate it in Russian to the coach- 
man. One of the guides, men who speak no language 
in particular, and end by composing for themselves a 
sort of lingua franca, not unlike the jargon talked by 
the sham Turks in the ceremony in the “ Bourgeois 
gentilhomme,” noticed my embarrassment and managed 
to understand that I wanted to go to the Hétel de 
Russie. So he piled my luggage on a_ rospousky, 
climbed up on it by my side, and we were off. The 
rospousky is a low vehicle of the most primitive design : 
two rough poles fitted to four small wheels, — nothing 
more. 

When one has just left the majestic solitude of the 


sea, the whirl of human activity and the tumult of a 


102 


bt¢t¢e¢tet¢¢¢¢¢¢4¢¢e4¢e4¢¢t¢¢tt¢44 
oS.) BEE RS RG 


great capital prove somewhat bewildering; it is a 
dreamy rush through novel sights; it is trying to see 
everything and seeing nothing. 

We soon reached a bridge, which later I learned was 
the Annunciation Bridge, or more familiarly, Niko- 
laievsky Bridge. It is reached by two drawbridges, 
which can be swung to allow of the passage of vessels, 
and which join again, so that the bridge looks on the 
river like a Y with shortened upper strokes. At the 
point of junction of the two drawbridges rises a small 
and exceedingly rich chapel, the mosaics and gilding of 
which I could only get a glimpse of as we passed. 

At the end of the bridge, the piles of which are of 
granite and the arches of iron, we turned up the English 
Quay, Angliskaya Naberejnaia, which is bordered with 
palaces with pediments and pillars, or private resi- 
dences no less splendid, painted in bright colours, with 
balconies and awnings projecting over the pavement. 
Most of the houses in Saint Petersburg, like those in 
London and Berlin, are of brick, coated with cement 
coloured in various tints, so as to bring out the lines of 
the building, and to produce a fine decorative effect. 
As we passed by I admired behind the panes of the 


lower windows banana trees and other tropical plants, 


103 


SLAELLALALALLEAAAALALL ALLE LAS 
TRAVELSIUN (Riss is 


growing in the warm rooms, which are like hothouses. 
The English Quay opens out upon a great square, on 
which Falconnet’s Peter the Great sits on his prancing 
horse, on top of the rock which serves for a pedestal, 
his arm extended towards the Neva. I recognised the 
statue at once from Diderot’s descriptions and the 
drawings of it which I had seen. At the back of the 
square rose the giant mass of St. Isaac’s, with its 
golden dome, its tiara of pillars, and its pillared facade. 
At the corner of a street at right angles to the quay, 
winged Victories on porphyry columns held out palms. 
All these things, of which I got a mere glimpse as, 
bewildered with novelties, we rapidly drove along, 
formed a magnificent Babylonian ensemble. 

Continuing in the same direction, I soon saw the 
vast Palace of the Admiralty. From a square tower 
in the form of a temple and ornamented with small 
pillars, sprang that slender gilt spire with a vessel for a 
vane, which is seen from afar, and which had excited 
my curiosity when we were still in the Gulf of Fin- 
land. ‘The rows of trees around the building had not 
yet lost their leaves, although the autumn was already 
advanced; it was the tenth of October. Farther on, 


in the centre of another square, rose from a brass 


104 


HLELLAHLAE LESSEE eteettet 
S02.) REDE RSBw/ RG 


pedestal the Alexander column, a superb monolith of 
rose granite surmounted by an angel bearing a cross. 
I had but a bare glimpse of it, for the carriage swung 
round a corner and entered the Nevsky Prospect, 
which is to St. Petersburg what the Rue de Rivoli is to 
Paris, Regent Street to London, the Calle d’Alcala to 
Madrid, and the Via di Roma Street to Naples ; that is, 
the chief artery of the city, the most frequented and 
the most animated part. 

What most struck me was the immense number of 
carriages, —and yet it is difficult to surprise a Parisian 
in that respect, —and particularly the extreme speed 
of the horses. ‘Tvhe drojkis are, as every one knows, 
a sort of small, low, very light phaeton, which can 
hold but two persons at most. They go like the wind, 
driven by coachmen that are as bold as they are skil- 
ful. They shaved my rospousky with the swiftness 
of a swallow, crossed and cut each other out, passed 
from the wooden pavement to the granite pavement 
without ever grazing, as far as I could see. Inextri- 
cable blocks were cleared as by magic, and every car- 
riage dashed off at full speed, finding room for its 
wheels where a wheel-barrow could not have got 


through. 


105 


téetbbt¢t¢¢ereteetttetttts 
DRAW FE: Lott N sean 


The Nevsky Prospect is at one and the same time 
the shopping-street and the show-street of St. Peters- 
burg. Shops are rented as high as on the Boulevard 
des Italiens. It presents the most original mingling 
of shops, palaces, and churches. On the signs show in 
gold letters the handsome characters of the Russian 
alphabet, which has retained some of the Greek letters, 
the lapidary forms of which lend themselves well to 
inscriptions. 

All this flashed before me like a dream, for the 
rospousky was going very fast, and before I knew it I 
was landed at the Hotel de Russie, the manager of 
which soundly rated the guide who had installed my 
lordship in so wretched a vehicle. 

The Hédtel de Russie, situated at the corner of the 
Place Michael, at the end of the Nevsky Prospect, is 
nearly as large as the Hotel du Louvre in Paris. Its 
corridors are longer than many a street, and one can 
easily tire walking up and down them. The ground- 
floor is devoted to the great dining-halls, decorated 
with hothouse plants. In the first hall, on a sort of 
bar, caviare, herrings, sandwiches of white and of 
brown bread, cheese of various kinds, bottles of bitters, 


kummel, and cognac, are used in Russian fashion to 


106 


SELELES ELSES eeettetetes 
ST. PETERSBURG 


give clients an appetite. The hors dauvres here are 
eaten before the meal, and I had travelled too much to 
think this fashion strange. Every country has its own 
habits. In Sweden, for instance, they give you your 
soup at dessert. 

At the entrance to this hall were the cloak-rooms, 
in which people put their overcoats, mufflers, shawls 
and galoshes. ' Yet it was not cold, and the thermome- 
ter in the open air showed 45 degrees Fahrenheit. 
These grave precautions in such a mild temperature 
astonished me, and [| could not help looking to see 
whether the snow had already whitened the roofs. 
They were, however, coloured only by the faint rosy 
light of sunset. Yet double windows were put up 
everywhere, huge piles of wood filled up the court- 
yards, and every preparation was made to receive win- 
ter in real earnest. My room was also hermetically 
closed. Between the inner and outer sashes was 
placed sand, in which were stuck little bags of salt, 
intended to absorb the damp and to prevent the frost- 
ing of the panes. Brass registers like letter-boxes 
were ready to pour out waves of hot air. But the 
winter was late, and the double windows merely served 


to keep the room pleasantly warm. ‘There was noth- 


107 


Shttbeteeetetttttett test 
TRAWVME LORIN VRS Sa 


ing characteristic about the furniture, save one of those 
immense sofas which are to be met with everywhere 
in Russia, and which with their numerous cushions are 
far more comfortable than the beds, that are mostly 
very bad. 

After dinner I went out without a guide, according 
to my custom, trusting to my bump of locality to find 
my way back to the hotel. A watchmaker’s dial at 
one corner and a watch-tower at another served me 
for landmarks. 

The first walk at haphazard through an unknown 
city which one has long dreamed of is one of the 
greatest enjoyments of a traveller, and more than com- 
pensates for the fatigue of the journey. Is it refining 
to say that night, with its shadows mingled with lights, 
its mysteriousness, and its fantastic enlarging of objects, 
greatly adds to this pleasure? ‘The eye perceives and 
the imagination completes. Reality does not yet show 
in over-harsh lines, and the masses loom up large, as in 
a painting which thé artist intends to finish later. 

So I turned down the Nevsky Prospect towards the 
Admiralty, sometimes looking at the passers-by, some- 
times at the brightly lighted shops, or into the base- 


ments, which reminded me of the Berlin cellars and 


108 


tebtbebteteettetttbbttttttes 
Orb) | Pier Resse ReG 


the Hamburg beer-tunnels. At every step I saw be- 
hind handsome windows artistic arrangements of fruit, 
— pine-apples, Portugal grapes, lemons, pomegranates, 
pears, apples, plums, and watermelons. ‘The love of 
fruit is as wide-spread in Russia as the love of sweets 
in Germany. Fruit is very expensive, so that it is still 
more sought after. On the pavement moujiks offered 
for sale small green apples that looked sour, but yet 
were readily bought. [hey were to be found in every 
corner. 

The next morning I went out early in order to see 
by daylight the picture which I had guessed at before 
in the faint gleam of twilight and in the darkness. As 
the Nevsky Prospect practically sums up St. Petersburg, 
I shall give a somewhat long and detailed description 
of it, to enable my reader to become at once familiar 
with the city. I must be forgiven apparently puerile 
and minute details, for it is these small matters, usually 
neglected as of no importance and too easily noted, 
that constitute the difference between one place and 
another, and apprise the tourist that he is no longer in 
the Rue Vivienne or in Piccadilly. 

Starting from Admiralty Place, the Nevsky Prospect 


prolongs itself into the far distance until, after making 


109g 


ahaha cbe ake che che oh ch ch dedecdecbecbecbecbecde decbob he cheob 
TRAVELS‘ IN RUSSIA 


a slight elbow, it reaches the Alexander Nevsky Con- 
vent. ‘The street is broad, like all the streets in St. 
Petersburg; the centre is paved with rather rough 
small blocks; the meeting of the two slopes of the 
paving forms a gutter; on either side a band of wooden 
pavement runs parallel to the stretch of small granite 
paving-stones. [he pavements are laid with broad 
flagstones. 

The spire of the Admiralty, which resembles the 
mast of a golden ship planted on the roof of a Greek 
temple, forms a most happy point of view at the end 
of the Prospect; the least sunbeam lights it up and 
delights the eye, whatever the distance at which one 
may be. ‘Two other neighbouring streets also enjoy 
this advantage, and show, by a skilful combination of 
lines, the same gilded spire; but for the present we 
shall turn our backs upon the Admiralty, and proceed 
along the Nevsky Prospect to the Anitchkov Bridge; 
that is, we shall traverse its most animated and fre- 
quented portion. ‘The houses here are high and large, 
and look like palaces or mansions; the oldest recall 
the old French style, somewhat Italianised, and present 
a rather majestic mingling of Mansart and Bernini. 


Corinthian pilasters, cornices, windows with _pedi- 


I1O 


S$khtbeeteeeteseeteeeeedekeder 
Sd) BIE ReSIBI RIG 


ments, brackets, round windows with volutes, doors 
adorned with masks, ground-floors with boss-work and 
bearing walls stand out from a background of rose- 
tinted cement. Others are in the fanciful Louis XV 
style, with rockery-work, foliage, draperies, torches ; 
while the Greek taste of the Empire presents elsewhere 
its pillars and triangular fronts, picked out in white on 
a yellow background. ‘Tvhe wholly modern dwellings 
are in the Anglo-German taste, and seem to be built 
after the model of the splendid hotels in watering- 
places, the pictures of which are so attractive to 
travellers. This exsemble,—the details of which should 
not be studied too closely, for the use of stone alone 
gives value to ornamentation, by preserving the direct 
touch of the artist, —this exsemb/e forms an admirable 
view, which singularly justifies the name Prospect, 
given to this street as well as to many others in St. 
Petersburg. Everything has been done for the eye, 
and the city, created all at once by a will that did 
not believe in obstacles, sprang complete from the 
marsh on which it is built, like a stage-setting at the 
sound of the carpenter’s whistle. 

If the Nevsky Prospect is beautiful, let me hasten to 


add that it turns its beauty to account; at once a fash- 


UT} 


ALELAAALLLAEALAALAALLLAALE ALLS 
DTRAV ELSSIN ORM Soi A 


ionable and business street, palaces and shops alternate 
along it. Nowhere, save perhaps in Berne, are sign- 
boards so luxurious; to such a degree indeed is this 
the case that the sign-board almost deserves to be 
reckoned a modern order of architecture, to be added 
to Vignola’s five orders. Golden letters show in thick 
and thin strokes on azure backgrounds, on black or red 
panels, are cut out, are applied to the plate glass of the 
show-windows, are repeated at every door, turn to 
account the corners of the streets, run around arches, 
extend along cornices, make use of the projecting 
padiezdas (awnings), slide down the stairs of the base- 
ments, and by: every means seek to attract the glance 
of the passer-by. But if one happens not to know 
Russian, the form of these characters may have no 
greater meaning than the design of an ornament or 
a piece of embroidery; side by side is given the 
translation into French or German. The traveller 
still fails to understand? In that case the good- 
natured sign-board forgives him for not knowing any 
one of these three tongues, and even supposes that he 
may be wholly ignorant; therefore it represents in 
lifelike fashion the articles sold in the shop which it 


adorns. Carved or painted golden bunches of grapes 


112 


Setebetdttettetettttttettt 
Of 7 AT ERS BURG. 


denote the wine-merchant’s ; farther on, hams, sausages, 
ox-tongues, boxes of caviare indicate the provision- 
dealer’s; boots, shoes, galoshes, artlessly represented, 
say to the feet of those who cannot read, “ Enter 
here and you shall be shod.” Gloves crossed speak a 
tongue intelligible to all. There are also women’s 
cloaks and dresses, some surmounted by a bonnet or 
a hat, though the artist has not thought it necessary 
to add a human face. Pianos invite you to try their 
painted keyboards. All this amuses the idler, and is 
characteristic. | 
Numerous canals traverse the city, which is built 
on twelve islands, like a Northern Venice. Three of 
these canals cut the Nevsky Prospect without inter- 
rupting it,—the Moika, the Iekaterininiesky, and the 
Fontanka. The Moika is spanned by the Police 
Bridge, the slope of which parallels rather too exactly 
the arch of the bridge itself, and causes the fast-fying 
drojkis to slacken speed for a moment. The other 
two canals are spanned by the Kazan and Anitchkov 
Bridges. On crossing these before the ice has formed, 
the glance follows with pleasure the opening made 
between the houses by these waters enclosed within 


granite quays, and traversed by boats. 


VOL. Vs II3 


S$beteebeete¢e¢etettetttttetts 
T RAW EIL S? IN TReUpsor 


Lessing, the author of “Nathan der Weise,” would 
have enjoyed the Nevsky Prospect, for there his views 
on religious tolerance are applied in the most liberal 
fashion: there is scarce a sect which has not its 
church or its temple on this broad street, in which it 
may worship with the utmost freedom. On the left in 
the direction in which I was going, there was the Dutch 
Church, Saint Peter’s Lutheran Church, the Catholic 
Church of Saint Catherine, the Armenian Church, —to 
say nothing of the Finnish chapel, and the churches 
of other reformed sects and denominations in the 
adjacent streets. On the right, the Russian Cathe- 
dral of Our Lady of Kazan, another Greek church, 
and a chapel of the old rite known as Starovertzi or 
Raskolniki. 

All these houses of God, except Our Lady of 
Kazan, which breaks the line and rounds out upon 
the vast square its elegant semicircular portico, 
modelled after the colonnade of St. Peter’s at Rome, — 
mingle familiarly with the dwellings of men; their 
facades are separated from them only by being slightly 
set back. ‘They present themselves without any mys- 
tery to the pious passer-by, and are recognisable by 


their particular style of architecture. Each church is 


Ir4 


beteeeberereetttettetttte tet 
SP ET Eo Ress ORG 


surrounded by extensive grounds, granted by the Czars, 
and which are now covered with rich buildings rented 
out by the Church authorities. 

Continuing on our way we come to the Douma 
Tower, a sort of fire-watch-tower like the Seraskierat 
Tower at Constantinople; at the top is a signalling 
apparatus on which red or black balls indicate the 
street in which a fire has broken out. Close by 
rises the Gostiny Dvor, a great, square building with 
two stories of galleries, recalling somewhat the 
Palais-Royal, and which contains shops of all kinds, 
with luxurious show-windows. Next comes the Im- 
perial Library, with round facade and Ionic columns ; 
then the Anitchkov Palace, which gives its name to 
the neighbouring bridge, adorned with four bronze 
horses, held in by equerries, and rearing on granite 
pedestals. 

That is a fair sketch of the Nevsky Prospect; but 
my reader may object that there is no one in my pic- 
ture, any more than in the pictures drawn by Turkish 
draughtsmen. Pray be patient; I am just going to 
enliven my picture and people it with figures. A 
writer, less fortunate than a painter, is compelled to 


present objects one after another. 


115 


SREEALE ALEC SS SSeS tt ttttt tts 
T RAW ELS TN? SRA SES 


The crowd is greatest between one and three o’clock 
in the afternoon. Besides men going about their busi- 
ness and walking rapidly, there are the idlers, whose 
sole object is to see, to be seen, and to enjoy a little 
exercise ; their coupés or drojkis wait for them at a 
place agreed upon, or even follow them along the street 
in case they should desire to get into their carriage. 

First must be noted the officers of the Guards, in 
long overcoats, their rank indicated by a badge on the 
shoulder, their breasts generally covered with stars, 
and wearing helmets or caps. Next are the tchinoy- 
niks (Government officials), in long frock-coats pleated 
down the back and at the belt; instead of a hat they 
wear a dark-coloured cap with a cockade. Young 
men who are neither soldiers nor officials wear over- 
coats lined with fur, of a costliness that amazes 
strangers, and which would stagger our dandies. 
These overcoats, of very fine cloth, are lined with 
marten or musk, with beaver collars costing from one 
hundred to three hundred roubles, according to the 
quality and softness of the fur, the richness of the 
colour, and the number of white hairs projecting be- 
yond the level of the fur. An overcoat costing one 


thousand roubles‘is not considered extravagant ; there 


116 


tebbbbtetbtttbebtttetetes 
STUBRET ERSBURG 


are some which cost more. That is a form of Russian 
luxury unknown among us. In St. Petersburg one 
might vary the proverb “Tell me the company you 
keep, and I will tell you who you are” in this way: 
« Tell me what furs you wear, and I will tell you 
what you are worth.” A man here is estimated by 
his overcoat. 

But my reader may say to himself as he peruses this 
description: “ What! furs already? At the begin- 
ning of October, in exceptionally mild weather, which 
Northerners ought to think spring-like?” Yes, the 
Russians are not what foolish people think ; it is sup- 
posed that, hardened by their climate, they enjoy snow 
and ice as if they were Polar bears; nothing is farther 
from the truth. On the contrary, they are exceedingly 
susceptible to cold, and take, against the slightest fall 
of temperature, precautions which strangers neglect on 
their first trip, though they are likely to adopt them 
later, once they have suffered. When a man lightly 
dressed, with an olive complexion, full black beard and 
whiskers, goes by, he is at once recognised as an 
Italian, —a Southerner, whose blood has not yet cooled. 
«© Put on your light overcoat and galoshes, and wrap 


your throat with a muffler,’ I was told. ‘But the 


i fy 


ttetbtrttetteettttteedeted 
TD IRGASVCESL'ST ADEN of ROU sSoriee. 


thermometer is at forty-two!” Never mind that; 
there is here, as in Madrid, a wind that would not blow 
out the flame of a candle, but that will killa man. In 
Madrid I wore a cloak in hot weather, so there was 
no reason why I[ should not put on a winter overcoat 
in autumn at St. Petersburg: one should trust to the 
wisdom of nations. An overcoat lined with light fur 
is therefore a transition garment; with the first fall of 
snow the pelisse is put on, and never left off until the 
month of May. 

Venetian ladies go about in gondolas only; ladies 
in St. Petersburg go out in carriages only, — scarcely 
do they alight to walk a few yards along the Prospect. 
Their bonnets and dresses are in the Parisian fashion. 
Blue seems to be the favourite colour; it becomes 
their fair complexion and golden hair. It is impossible 
to judge, on the street at least, whether they have fine 
figures or-not; full pelisses of black satin or Scotch 
plaid cover them from the neck to the heels. Co- 
quetry has to give way here to climatic conditions, and 
the prettiest feet are unhesitatingly shod with great 
shoes. Andalusians would rather die than do this, but 
in St. Petersburg the remark “I do not want to catch 


cold” is a standing argument. The pelisses are lined 


118 


che cbe ok cdo abe ohooh oe ecb cdecde octal abecte detec obec 


we 


oT) REE RSIBiIU' RG 


with zibeline marten, Siberian blue fox, and other furs 
the extravagant price of which we Westerners do not 
even suspect. Luxuriousness in this respect is incredi- 
ble, and if the rigour of the climate compels women to 
wear a shapeless sack, one may be quite sure that it 
will cost as much as the most splendid dress. After 
they have gone some fifty yards, the lovely, indolent 
ladies return into their coupés or their carriages, pay a 
few visits, and are driven home. 

This of course applies to ladies in society, that is to 
say, the ladies of the nobility ; the others, even though 
they may be rich, have more humble manners, though 
their beauty may be as great: rank here is the first 
consideration. Here are German ladies, the wives of 
merchants, easily known by their Teutonic type, their 
air of dreamy gentleness, their clean dresses of simpler 
stuffs : they wear talmas, basquines, or long-haired cloth 
cloaks. Here are Frenchwomen in loud dresses, with 
velvet coats and hats, which cover the whole top of the 
head, recalling Mabille and the Folies-Nouvelles on 
the pavement of the Nevsky Prospect. 

The truth is that so far one might easily fancy one’s 
self on the Rue Vivienne or on the Boulevard; but be 


patient, you shall presently see the Russian types. 


11g 


tttetetetettetetttttteees 
TRAV ELS! BAN TRUS Site 


Look at that man ina blue kaftan, buttoned on one 
side of the breast, like a Chinese gown, pleated sym- 
metrically on the hips, and exquisitely clean: he is 
an artelchtchik or merchant’s servant. A flat-crowned 
cap, with visor coming down on the forehead, com- 
pletes his costume. He wears his hair and beard 
parted in the middle like Jesus Christ. He has an 
honest and intelligent face. He is intrusted with col- 
lections, calls, and commissions that require probity. 
Just as my reader is commenting on the absence 
of picturesqueness, there passes a nurse wearing the old 
national costume. She wears a povoinik, a sort of 
diadem-shaped toque of red or blue velvet, with golden 
embroidery. The povoinik is either open or closed ; 
worn open it means that the wearer is a girl; closed, 
that she is a woman. ‘The povoinik of the nurses has 
a crown, and the hair falls from below the toque in 
two long tresses, which hang down .the back; when 
they were girls they wore but a single tress. Under 
the tunic-like gown of wadded damask, the waist up 
under the arms, and the skirt very short, is seen an 
underskirt of cheaper stuff; the tunic is red or blue, 
like the povoinik, and bordered with a broad golden 


galloon. “The costume, essentially Russian, is stylish 


I20 


LLEADL ELE ESSE eet tteteetest 
Sl, Peer E Roi RG 


and aristocratic when worn by a handsome woman. 
The gala full-dress, worn at Court entertainments, is 
on this model, and, covered with gold, studded with 
diamonds, contributes not a little to the splendour of a 
feast. 

In Spain it is also the proper thing to have nurses 
wearing the pasiega costume, and I used to admire 
the handsome peasant-women on the Prado or the 
Calle d’Alcala, with their black velvet jackets and gold- 
banded scarlet skirts. It seems as though civilisation, 
feeling the national characteristics vanishing, seeks to 
imprint the remembrance of them on the children, by 
bringing from the far countryside a woman in the old 
costume, to represent the motherland. 

As I am talking of nurses, I suppose I may talk of 
children; the transition is a natural one. The Russian 
babies are very pretty, with their blue kaftans, and their 
flat hats like the sombrero calafées, decorated with a pea- 
cock’s feather. — 

On the pavements are always numbers of dvorniks, 
or janitors, busily sweeping in summer, and cleaning 
away the ice and snow !n winter. They are rarely in 
a lodge, even, if they have a lodge in our Parisian 


meaning of the word. They sit up all night, are 


jee | 


$EECE ALES tttttttttes 
TRAY E LCSAEN Rass 


unacquainted with the “cordon,” and open the door 
themselves at the first call, — for they actually concede, 
strange to say, that a janitor ought to open the door at 
three in the morning just as readily as at three in the 
afternoon. ‘They sleep anywhere, and never undress. 
‘They wear a blue shirt over their rather full trousers 
and heavy boots, a costume which they exchange at 
the first touch of cold for a sheepskin coat, with the 
wool inside. 

From time to time a boy, draped around the waist 
with an apron like a loin-cloth, fastened by a string, 
leaves an artisan’s shop, and crosses the street rapidly, 
to enter a house or shop at some distance; it is an 
apprentice, sent on a message by his master. 

The picture would not be complete if I did not in- 
troduce into it some dozens of moujiks in their tulupes, 
shining with filth and grease, — selling apples or cakes, 
carrying provisions in sarzines (baskets made of fir- 
wood shavings), mending the wooden pavement, or 
stepping together in groups of four to six, carrying on 
their heads a piano, a table, or a sofa. 

There are very few moujik women to be seen, either 
because they remain in the country upon their masters’ 


estates or because they are busy at home with domestic 


P22 


Lfteeeeee¢tettteettttetetee 
od) Pia E ReeBit? RG 


affairs. Such of them as are to be occasionally met 
with have nothing characteristic about them: on their 
heads they wear a handkerchief which is tied under 
their chin and frames in their face; a wadded over- 
coat of common stuff, of neutral colour and doubtful 
cleanliness, falls half way to their ankles, and below it 
show a chintz skirt, thick felt stockings, and wooden 
clogs. They are not very pretty, but have a sad, soft 
look. No flash of envy lights up their pale eyes at the 
sight of a beautiful well-dressed lady, and coquetry 
seems to be unknown to them. They accept their 
inferiority, —a thing no woman in France ever does, 
however lowly her condition may be. 

Indeed, one is struck by the proportionately small 
number of women in the streets of St. Petersburg; as 
in the East, men alone seem to have the privilege of 
going out. It is the contrary in Germany, where the 
feminine population is always in the streets. 

So far I have put my figures on the pavement only, 
yet the street itself does not present a less animated 
and lively spectacle, for along it flows an incessant 
stream of carriages, going at full speed, and it is no less 
perilous to cross the Prospect than to cross the Boule- 


vard between Rue Drouot and Rue Richelieu. People 


123 


LHELAHHALLALLAELALLALLL LAL AEA 
TRALEE: Sta IN. eee 


do not walk much in St. Petersburg, and take a drojki 
even to goa few steps. Carriages here are considered 
not as luxuries, but as necessaries; small dealers, 
poorly paid employees, economise in many ways in 
order to have a karéta, a drojki, or asleigh. It is some- 
what dishonourable to go on foot,—a_ carriageless 
Russian is like a horseless Arab; one doubts whether 
he is a nobleman, and he may be taken for a mecht- 
chanine or serf. 

The drojki is the national carriage par excellence. 
There is nothing like it in any country, and it therefore 
deserves a special description. There is one now close 
by the pavement, waiting for its owner, who is visiting 
in some house or another; it seems to be posing pur- 
posely for us. It is a fashionable drojki, belonging to 
a young nobleman fond of a stylish equipage. The 
drojki is a very small, low, four-wheeled, open car- 
riage; the hind wheels are no larger than the front 
wheels of the victorias; the front wheels are the size 
of those of a wheel-barrow. Four round springs sup- 
port the body, which is divided into two parts, one for 
the coachman, the other for the owner; the latter part 
is round, and in the elegant drojkis, called ‘ sulkies,” 


can seat but a single person; in others there are two 


124 


Seee¢eetertettetetttttets 
Si) PEERS BURG 


seats, but so narrow that one is forced to put one’s arm 
around the other passenger, whether a lady or a gentle- 
man. Oneither side two varnished-leather mud-guards 
curve over the wheels, and meeting on the side of the 
carriage, which has no door, form a step a few inches 
from the ground. Under the driver’s seat is the king- 
bolt. ‘There are no patent axle-boxes on the wheels, 
for a reason that I shall presently state when describing 
the manner in which the drojki is fitted. The colour 
of the carriage does not vary greatly : it is either dark- 
green, relieved with light-blue lines, or Russian green, 
with pale-green lines, but whatever may be the colour 
chosen, it is always dark. ‘The seat is upholstered in 
morocco or dark cloth; a Persian or moquette carpet is 
placed under the feet. “The drojkis do not carry lights, 
and they fly along at night without having their two stars 
on their frontlets. It is the business of the pedestrian 
to look out for himself, and that of the coachman to 
call, “ Look out!” Nothing can be prettier, daintier, 
or lighter than this fairy equipage, which might be car- 
ried off under one’s arm: it looks as if it had been 
turned out by Queen Mab’s carriage-builder. 
Harnessed to this nut-shell, which would not prevent 


its jumping a fence, stamps impatiently and nervously 


125 


AAADLALLLALALLLALLALLALL ELS 
ToRAV-E DC Stal NPR 


a splendid horse, which may have cost six thousand 
roubles, —a horse of the famous Orloff breed, with sil- 
very gray coat, a high-stepper, long maned, and with 
a silvery tail that looks as if it were spangled with 
shining mica. It paws and throws its head up and 
down, digs, scratches the stones with its hoofs, and is 
held in with difficulty by a robust coachman. It stands 
nude between the shafts, and no complication of har- 
ness prevents one admiring its beauty: a few light 
leather cords, not more than a centimetre in length, 
fastened by small silver or gilt ornaments, play upon 
its back without troubling it, covering it, or concealing 
in any way the proportions of its form. The cheek- 
straps are covered with small metallic scales, and the 
heavy blinkers, black shutters that conceal the finest 
part of a horse, namely, its: fire-dilated’ eye, are not 
used. Iwo silver chains are gracefully crossed over 
the forehead. The snaffle is covered with leather, to 
prevent the cold of the steel spoiling the delicacy of 
the handling, for a mere thread is sufficient to guide 
the noble animal. A collar, very light and supple, 
is the only portion of the harness by which the horse is 
fastened to the carriage, for Russian harness does not 


include traces. The shafts are fastened directly to the 


126 


betgbebbebeettettett tte ttttest 
Sit BEE RSBRG 


collar by straps rolled and twisted on themselves several 
times, but without buckles, rings, or metal fastenings of 
any kind. At the point where the shafts and collar 
meet, the same straps fasten a yoke of flexible wood, 
that curves above the horse’s withers like the handle 
of a basket, the ends of which are drawn together ; this 
yoke, called douga, bent a little backwards, and to 
which the check-strap is fastened, serves to keep the 
collar and the shafts from chafing the horse. 

The shafts are not fastened to the fore-body of the 
drojki, but to the axle of the fore-wheels, which projects 
beyond the hub, through a thin piece of wood fastened 
by a hook on the outside. For the sake of greater 
solidity, a trace placed outside is connected with the 
straps and collar. “This mode of harnessing makes the 
fore-body turn easily, the traction acting upon the ends 
of the axle as on a lever. This is no doubt a very 
minute description, but vague descriptions do not 
convey accurate ideas, and perhaps the Parisian and 
London sportsman would not be sorry to know how 
a Saint Petersburg sportsman’s drojki is made and 
harnessed. 

There! I have not spoken of the coachman. The 


Russian coachman is characteristic, full of local colour ; 


127 


SELLA AADLAELAAPEAAAALALLE LSS 
TIRAW ETS N 2a sae 


he wears a low-crowned hat, swelling above, the brim 
of which, turned up on either side, is inclined on the 
forehead and on the back of the neck, and a long blue 
or green kaftan, fastened under the left arm by five 
silver hooks or buttons, pleated on the hips, and 
fastened round the waist by a Circassian belt woven 
with gold. The man’s muscular neck shows above his 
cravat; over his breast flows his full beard, and with 
his arms extended, holding a rein in each hand, he has, 
I. must own, a triumphant and proud mien. He is 
indeed the coachman for such an equipage. “The 
stouter he is, the higher are his wages; if he has en- 
tered an establishment thin, he asks for an increase of 
wages as he grows stouter. 

As people drive with both hands the use of the whip 
is unknown; the horses are urged or quieted down by 
the sound of the voice. Like the Spanish muleteers 
the Russians address compliments or insults to their 
animals, sometimes using charming and tender diminu- 
tives, sometimes horribly picturesque insults, which 
modern modesty forbids my repeating. If the animal 
slackens speed or stumbles, a touch of the reins on the 
quarters is sufficient to excite it or pull it up. Coach- 


men warn you to get out of the way by calling out: 


128 


debcbabcb ch bch bch bebe cbecheeh cheek chet 
ST. PETERSBURG 


iP 
iP 
a 
i> 


“ Beréguiss! Béréguiss!”? If you do not obey quickly 
enough, they repeat forcibly : “ Béréguiss! Béréguiss, 
—sta...eh!” The coachmen of great houses make 
a point of never raising their voices. 

Now our young nobleman has got back into his 
carriage; the horse goes off at a lively trot, stepping so 
high that its knees touch its nostrils; it looks as if it 
were dancing, but this stylish gait in no wise diminishes 
its speed. 

Sometimes another horse is harnessed to the drojki ; 
it is called pristiajka, or off horse; it is held in by a 
single outer rein, and gallops while its companion 
trots; the difficulty lies in keeping up similar gaits at 
an even pace. ‘This horse, which looks as if it were 
prancing along and accompanying its comrade for the 
fun of the thing, has a gay, free, graceful look, the 
equal of which is not to be seen anywhere else. 

Public drojkis are exactly similar, save that their 
lines are not so elegant ; they are not so highly finished, 
and the painting is not so good. ‘They are driven by 
coachmen wearing a more or less clean blue kaftan ; 
they carry a number stamped on a brass plate, hung 
from a leather cord and usually thrown behind the 


back, so that the passenger while driving along shall 


VOL. I—9 129 


SEELA LLL ALLE eetes 


T RAW. Bilesy aN Re 


have the number before him and not forget it. The 
harness is the same, and though the little Ukraine horse 
is not so highly bred, it nevertheless goes at a good 
speed. There is also the long drojki, which is older 
and more national; it is simply a bench covered with 
cloth, and placed on four wheels; one has either to sit 
astride on it or sidewise as on a lady’s saddle. “The 
drojkis wander about here and there, or stand at the 
corners of the streets or squares, in front of wooden 
troughs supported on open-work supports, that contain 
oats or hay for the horses. At any hour of the day or 
night, at any place in St. Petersburg, one need only 
call out, “ /zvochtchik!” two or three times, and forth- 
with there dashes up a small carriage, which has come 
Heaven knows whence. 

The coupés, berlins, and barouches that continually 
drive up and down the Prospect, are in no wise dis- 
tinctive. Most of them seem to come from England or 
Vienna; they are drawn by superb horses, and always 
go at a great pace. The coachmen wear kaftans, 
and sometimes by their side is seated a sort of soldier, 
wearing a brass helmet topped by a ball instead of an 
aigrette like that of the regulars; these men are dressed 


in gray cloaks, the collars of which are trimmed with 


130 


betebbbtettttttettttttes 
oi.) PETERSBURG 


red or blue bands, indicating the rank of their master 
— whether a general or a colonel. The right of 
sporting a footman in hunting livery is confined to the 
embassies. his carriage, drawn by four horses, with 
postilion in old-fashioned livery, holding in his hand a 
long, straight riding-whip, is the Metropolitan’s car- 
riage, and when it goes by everybody bows. 

Amid the rush of the carriages are to be seen very 
primitive chariots; for the wildest rusticity rubs elbows 
with the highest civilisation, —a frequent contrast in 
Russia. Rospouskys, consisting of two joists placed 
on axles, and the wheels of which are fastened by 
pieces of wood, that press against the hubs and curve 
up to the sides of the rough vehicle, — shave the swiftly 
speeding, dazzling barouche. “The mode of harness- 
ing is the same as with the drojki, only a larger yoke, 
quaintly painted, takes the place of the light, gracefully 
curved douga; ropes replace the fine leather thongs, 
and a moujik wearing a tulupe or a_ round frock, 
squats down among the bundles and bales. As for 
the horse, whose coat has never been groomed, it 
shakes as it goes its tangled mane that hangs almost 
to the ground. These vehicles are used for moving 


purposes; planks are placed upon them to give more 


131 


tkbeteeeebeeetbeeebede bbe 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


room, and the furniture travels with its legs in the 
air, fastened down with cords. Farther on, a hay-cart 
seems to be going along of itself, dragged by a poor 
brute which it almost entirely covers up. A barrel 
full of water progresses slowly in the same fashion. 
A telega goes by at full speed, not caring whether 
its springless condition jolts the officials it carries. 
Whither is it bound? To a point five or six hundred 
versts away; farther perhaps, even to the uttermost 
limits of the Empire, to the Caucasus or Thibet. It is 
no matter, but one thing is certain, that the light cart, 
that is the best name for it, will always be driven at 
top speed; provided the two fore-wheels get there with 
the front seat, that will be sufficient. 

Now look at this dray, which with its boarded bot- 
tom and sides looks like a great trough on wheels; 
there is dragging behind it a pole separating, like the 
partition of a loose box, the two horses which it tows 
and which do not need to be held in hand by attendants, 
— nothing could be more simple and convenient. 

There are not to be seen in St. Petersburg any of. 
those heavy drays drawn by five or six elephantine 
horses, lashed by a brutal driver; here, horses, which 


are more spirited than robust, are not expected to draw 


132 


A ee eS 


bttebetbreetteettttttttts 
ob. OU Pibaer RSIbIU RG 


heavy loads,—all weighty objects which can be divided, 
are distributed among several teams, instead of being 
heaped up on a single one as with us. ‘These teams 
go together, and form caravans that recall in the 
centre of the city the travelling methods of the desert. 
Horsemen are rare, unless they happen to be mounted 
guardsmen or Cossack orderlies. 

Every civilised city is bound to have omnibuses. A 
few travel in and about the Nevsky Prospect, bound to 
distant quarters; they are drawn by three horses, but 
people usually prefer drojkis, which do not cost much 
more, and which take you wherever you please; the 
long drojki costs fifteen kopecks a trip, the round 
drojki twenty. It is not dear, and a man must either 
be very poor or miserly to walk. 

Twilight is coming on; passers-by are hastening to 
dinner, the carriages are scattering, and on the watch- 
tower rises the luminous ball which gives the signal for 


lighting the gas lamps. Let us go home. 


33 


WINTER—THE NEVA 


. URING the past few days the temperature has 
1) grown markedly colder; every night there 
has been a white frost, and a northeast wind 

has swept away the last red leaves of the trees on 
Admiralty Square. ‘The winter, although late for this 
climate, has started from the Pole, and its approach is 
marked by the shivering of nature. Nervous people 
experience that curious uneasiness caused in delicate 
organizations by coming snow. ‘The izvochtchiks, who 
have no nerves, it is true, but on the other hand possess 
an infallible meteorological instinct like animals, — 
look up at the sky of a uniform yellowish gray, and joy- 
ously make their sleighs ready. “he snow, however, 
has not come, and people are exchanging critical remarks 
about the temperature, of a very different description from 
the meteorological commonplaces of the Philistines of 
other countries. In St. Petersburg people complain 
that the weather is not cold enough, and when they 


look at the thermometer they are apt to say: ‘ What! 


134 


bLeteeeeeedeettttttettttetes | 
WINTER—THE NEVA 


only twenty-four to twenty-six degrees of cold? There 
is no doubt that the climate is changing.” The old 
people will tell you of the lovely winters when they 
enjoyed a cold of ten to twenty below zero, beginning 
with the month of October, and lasting until the month 
of May. , 

One morning, however, as I raised my blind, I saw 
through the double windows, moist with the night air, 
a roof dazzlingly white, that stood out against the pale- 
blue sky, in which the rising sun was gilding a few rosy 
clouds and wisps of yellow smoke. ‘The architectural 
lines of the palace opposite my house were picked out 
with silver lines like those of drawings on tinted paper 
which are brought out by touches of white, and 
over the ground was spread, like a lining of cotton, a ° 
thick layer of virgin snow, yet unmarked save by the 
starry feet of pigeons, as numerous in St. Petersburg as 
in Constantinople or Venice. A flock of these birds, 
spotting the immaculately white background with its 
blue-gray tints, was hopping about, flapping its wings, 
and apparently awaiting, more impatiently than usual, 
the seeds thrown them every morning, with Brahmin- 
like charity, by the provision-dealer in the basement ; 


for although the snow looks like a table-cloth, the birds 


1G 


PEELE ELE LE Eee bee tee eee 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


do not find a meal on it. ‘The pigeons were hungry ; 
so great was their joy when the dealer at last opened 
the door; the winged flock swooped eagerly at him, and 
he disappeared fora moment in a cloud of feathers. A 
few handfuls of grain thrown at a distance partially 
restored his liberty, and he smiled, as he stood on his 
threshold, at seeing his little friends eating with joyous 
avidity, and sending the snow flying right and left. Of 
course a few uninvited sparrows, like shameless parasites, 
profited by this good cheer, and did not allow the crumbs 
of the feast to fall to the ground. After all, people 
must live. 

The city was awaking. Moujiks were going to mar- 
ket, with their baskets of fir shavings on their heads, 
plunging their big boots into the yet untrodden snow, 
and making tracks like those of an elephant. A few 
women, with handkerchiefs tied under their chins, and 
wrapped up in quilted overcoats like counterpanes, 
crossed the street with a lighter step, embroidering with 
silvery mica the bottoms of their skirts. Gentlemen, 
wearing long coats, their collars turned up above their 
ears, walked along briskly, on their way to their offices. 
And suddenly appeared the first sleigh, driven by Winter 


in person, under the figure of an izvochtchik, who wore 


136 


sf 


ches abe ohooh che be abe che te cbecde deleche obe ch cde obec cbse: 
WINTER — THE YNEVA 


a square, red velvet cap trimmed with fur, a blue kaftan 
lined with sheepskin, and over his knees an old bear- 
skin robe. While waiting for a customer he was loll- 
ing on the front seat of his sleigh, driving, over his own 
seat, with big mittens on his hands, his little Kazan 
horse, whose long mane almost swept the snow. Never 
since my arrival in St. Petersburg had I had so clear a 
feeling that I was in Russia: it was like a sudden rev- 
elation, and I immediately understood many things 
which till then had remained obscure. 

As soon as I saw the snow I dressed as fast as I 
could; at the sight of the sleigh I put on my overcoat 
and my galoshes, and a moment later I was in the 
street uttering the customary cry: “ Izvochtchik ! 
Izvochtchik!”’ ‘The sleigh drove up to the curb, the 
izvochtchik straddled his seat, and [ inserted myself into 
the carriage, the bottom of which was filled with hay, 
— carefully crossing the skirts of my pelisse one over 
the other, and pulling the fur robe well over myself. 
The construction of the sleigh is very simple: it con- 
sists of two runners or skates of polished iron, the 
forward part of which is curved upward like a Chinese 
shoe; on these two runners a light iron armature sup- 


ports the driver’s seat and the box in which the passenger 


137, 


whe he obs ole he che abe abe che aby be crcl be le ole cb ole obs cbs of alle dalle 
TVRIAV E GSE INE RU SS 


takes his place; the box is usually painted mahogany 
colour. The dash-board, which curves outwards like 
a swan’s breast, gives gracefulness to the sleigh, and 
protects the izvochtchik from the pieces of snow which 
fly past the rapid turn-out like silvery foam. The 
shafts are fastened to the collar, as is the case with the 
drojki, and draw from the runners. “The whole thing 
is very light and goes like the wind, especially when the 
snow has been hardened by the frost, and the track is 
beaten down. 

Weare off for the Anitchkov Bridge, at the very end 
of the Nevsky Prospect; I had thought of going there 
simply because it was a long drive, for at this early 
hour of the morning I did not care to inspect the four 
bronze horses that decorate it. Besides, I was very 
glad to see the Prospect snow-powdered and in its full 
winter dress. It is amazing how much it is improved 
by it. An endless silver band unrolled as far as the 
eye could reach, between the double lines of palaces, 
mansions, and churches, every building itself brought 
out by white touches, produces a really wonderful 
effect. The rose, yellow, buff, mouse-gray colours of 
the houses, which are apt to appear somewhat strange 


under ordinary conditions, have a very harmonious 


138 


TTT TT 


wre 


WINTER—THE NEVA 


tone when thus relieved by dazzling lines and sparkling 
spangles. “Ihe Cathedral of Our Lady of Kazan, which 
we passed, was metamorphosed, greatly to its advantage; 
on its Italian cupola there now rested a Russian snow- 
cap; the cornices and the Corinthian capitals were out- 
lined in pure white; on the terrace of its semicircular 
colonnade there was a balustrade of massive silver, like 
that which adorns the /konostas ; the steps leading to 
the porch were covered with a carpet of ermine, fine, 
soft, and splendid enough for a Czarina to walk upon. 

The statues of Barclay de Tolly and Kutusov seemed 
to feel glad, as they stood on their pedestals, that the 
sculptor, Orlovski, knowing what the climate was, had 
not dressed them in Roman fashion, but had on the 
contrary provided them with warm bronze mantles. 
Unfortunately, the artist had not given them hats, and 
the snow had powdered their heads with its cold powder 
@ la maréchale. 

Near Our Lady of Kazan the lékaterininiesky Canai 
crosses the Prospect under a bridge. It was frozen all 
over, and the snow was drifted at the corners of the 
quay and the steps of the stairs. A single night had 
sufficed to freeze up everything. The ice-floes which 


the Neva had been carrying down for some days past, 


139 


tttttttettettetttttttees 
TRAV E-LSAIN. (RUSS Te 


had stopped and formed a transparent mould around 
the hulls of the boats laid up in winter-quarters. 

Before the doors of the houses dvorniks, armed with 
broad shovels, were cleaning the pavement and heaping 
up the snow on the street. Sleighs came from all 
directions, and strange to say, in one night the drojkis, 
so numerous the day before, had wholly disappeared, — 
not a single vehicle of that kind was to be met with in 
the streets: it seemed as if Russia had in one night 
returned to the most primitive civilisation and had not 
yet invented wheels. Rospouskys, telegas, every sort 
of carriage was now on runners. ‘The moujiks drew 
their baskets upon small sledges; their low-crowned, 
vase-like hats had vanished, and had been replaced by 
velvet caps. 

When the track is well beaten down, and the frost 
has packed the snow, there is an immense saving in 
power obtained by the use of sleighs: a horse can 
draw, without difficulty, and with twice the speed, 
three times the weight it could draw under ordinary 
conditions. In Russia, snow is for six months of the 
year a universal railway, the white lines of which ex- 
tend in every direction, and enable one to go wherever 


one pleases. The silvery road has the great advantage 


140 


LELLELEEE ESSE eSE EEE bE 
WHINTER—THE NEVA 


of costing nothing at all per verst or kilometre, a most 
economical item, which the most skilful engineers will 
never manage; this may be the reason why there are 
only two or three railways across the immense territory 
of Russia. 

I returned home very much pleased with my drive. 
After having breakfasted, and smoked a cigar,—a 
delightful sensation in St. Petersburg, where one is not 
allowed to smoke in the street under penalty of being 
fined one rouble, —I walked along the Neva to enjoy 
the change of scenery. The great river, which I had 
seen a few days before spreading out its broad waters, 
rippling with perpetual fluctuations, shimmering in 
ever-changing rays of light, traversed by the incessant 
coming and going of ships, boats, steamers, and other 
craft, and rolling towards the Gulf of Finland, though 
itself as vast as a gulf, —had completely changed its 
appearance: the immobility of death had succeeded the 
liveliest animation, the snow lay thick over the floes, 
now joined together, and between the granite quays the 
white valley, from which arose here and there the black 
points and masts above the half-buried vessels, was pro- 
longed as far as the eye could see. Poles and branches 


of fir pointed the places cut in the ice for the purpose 


141 


ere ere ere 


check sobre os choo oh ce cheek cece cde ede deeds ob oo 
IN RUSSIA 


of drawing water, and indicated the road which could 
be safely followed from one bank to the other; for 
already foot passengers were crossing, and the plank 
slopes were being laid for the sleighs and carriages, 
though they were still barred to trafic by wooden 
horses, the ice not being thick enough yet. 

In order to have a better general view, I went to the 
Annunciation Bridge, more generally known as the 
Nicolaievsky Mést, which I mentioned when describing 
my arrival in St. Petersburg. ‘This time I had leisure 
to examine carefully the lovely chapel erected in honour 
of St. Nicholas the Thaumaturgist, at the point of 
junction of the two drawbridges. It is a charming 
little building, in Russo-Byzantine style, which is so 
appropriate to the Orthodox-Greek ritual, and which 
I should like to see more generally adopted in Russia. 
It is of blue granite, flanked at each corner with a 
pillar, with composite capital; the pillar is circled at 
the centre by a bracelet, and striated with flutings that 
are not straight but broken at the top and at the 
bottom; a double base supports the pillar; the arcade 
is cut in facets; three bays are cut out of three of the 
sides of the building, the back wall of which is re- 


splendent with a mosaic in precious stones, represent- 


142 


debe hbk bbbchdedch cheb cheb ak babel 


Fe ore wre ore 


WINTER—THE NEVA 


ing the holy patron of the chapel, draped in a dalmatic, 
a golden nimbus on his head, an open book in his hand, 
and surrounded by celestial figures in adoration. Richly 
wrought iron-work balconies close the two side arcades. 
The arch of the facade, reached by a staircase, gives 
access to the chapel. ‘Ivhe cornice, covered with in- 
scriptions in Slavonic characters, punctuated with stars, 
is topped by a series of heart-shaped ornaments, placed 
point up, which alternate with dog’s-tooth ornaments. 
The roof, of pyramidion shape, with ridge line mould- 
ings, is covered with golden scales; on its point is 
placed one of those swelling Muscovite belfries, which 
I cannot compare to anything better than tulip bulbs 
covered with gold, and ending in a Greek cross, the 
foot of which springs from the crescent that rests upon 
the ball. [ am very fond of those gilded roofs, espe- 
cially when the snow covers them with its silvery 
filings and gives them an air of old silver-gilt with 
half the gilding worn off; the tones then are incredibly 
délicate and wondrous, and the effects produced are 
absolutely unknown elsewhere. 

A lamp burns night and day before the ikon. When 
izvochtchiks pass near the chapel they take their reins 


in one hand, and with the other raise their cap and 


143 


TRAVELS JIN ‘RUSSDA 


make the sign of the cross. Moujiks prostrate them- 
selves on the snow. Soldiers and officers repeat a 
prayer with an air of ecstasy, motionless, bare-headed, 
— a meritorious devotion indeed when the thermome- 
ter marks from five to ten above zero. Women climb 
the steps and kiss the feet of the ikon, after many 
genuflexions. Nor, as might be supposed, do they 
belong only to the lower classes: the people of the 
upper classes do the same; no one crosses the bridge 
without some sign of respect—-a bow at the very 
least — to the saint which protects it. And the kopecks 
fall in quantities in the two alms-boxes placed on 
either side the chapel. 

But let us return to the Neva. On the right, if 
one looks towards the city one sees, somewhat back of 
the Angliskaya Nabérejnaia (the English Quay), the 
five-pointed steeples of the Guards’ Church, the gild- 
ing slightly glazed with white; farther on, the dome of 
St. Isaac’s, like the diamond-studded mitre of one of 
the Magi kings, the brilliant spire of the Admiralty, 
and the corner of the Winter Palace. On the left, still 
looking from seaward, the sky-line does not break the 
horizon with so many golden dentelations; there are 


fewer churches on this side, and they are farther back 


144 


tebbbtbtetbtttttetdtttttttet 
WINTER—THE NEVA 


within the Vassily Ostrov, as this quarter of the city is 
called. Still, the palaces and mansions that border the 
quay present monumental lines, which the snow brings 
out most happily. On the hither side of the Exchange 
Bridge, rises the Academy of Fine Arts, a great palace 
in the classical taste, containing a round court within 
its square mass. From the palace the river is reached 
by a colossal staircase adorned with two great human- 
headed Egyptian sphinxes, surprised at bearing upon 
their rose granite quarters housings of snow that make 
them shiver. “The Roumiantzov Obelisk rises in the 
centre of the square. 

If, crossing by the Exchange Bridge, one returns to 
che other bank, and passing by the Winter Palace and 
the Hermitage, one goes as far as the Marble Palace, a 
little way before reaching the Troitsky Bridge, and 
then looks back, there is a new view well worth gazing 
upon. ‘The river divides into two arms which form 
the Great and the Lesser Neva, and surround the 
island, the up-stream point of which is decorated with 
grandiose architectural effect. 

At each corner of the esplanade which ends the 
island on this side, rises a sort of lighthouse or rather 


a rostral column of rose granite, with bronze prows 


VOL. I—10 145 


ah he os ob ob oho che che he che chee che cb ct hehe fected ch be 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


and anchors, surmounted by brazen tripods or lights ; 
the whole placed upon a pedestal against which lean — 
seated statues. Between these two very effective 
columns shows the Exchange, which, as with us, is a 
distant imitation of the Parthenon, a parallelogram sur- 
rounded by pillars; only they are Doric instead of 
Corinthian, and the main portion of the building rises 
above the attic of the surrounding colonnade, present- 
ing a triangular gable like a Greek pediment, in which 
is cut a broad, arched window, half filled up by a group 
of sculpture placed upon the corners of the portico. 
On the right and left the University and the Custom- 
House are placed symmetrically ; these buildings are 
of regular and simple architecture. The two light- 
houses, with their gigantic and monumental silhouettes, 
very effectively relieve the somewhat cold, classical 
lines of the buildings. In the arm of the Lesser Neva 
are massed, for wintering, the ships and boats, the 
masts of which, stripped of their rigging, cut the back- 
ground with slender lines. Now to this brief sketch on 
pearl-gray paper, add a few touches of brilliant white, 
and you will have a pretty good view for your album. 

To-day I shall not go farther; it is anything but 


warm on the quays and bridges, where blows a wind 


146 


Sfeeeetetetttetetettttses 
WINTER—THE NEVA 


that comes straight from the Pole. Every one walks 
rapidly. The two lions that stand at the landing-place 
of the Imperial palace seem to be frost-bitten, and to 
find it dificult to hold the ball placed under their paw. 

The next day private sleighs and open carriages 
turned the Angliskaya Nabérejnaia and the Nevsky 
Prospect into asort of Longchamps. It seems strange, 
in a city where five below zero is not an uncommon 
temperature, that people should use closed carriages so 
little; it is only as a last resort that Russians use 
karétas, and yet they are very sensitive to cold; but 
the fur coat is a defence against the cold, — once they 
have it on they laugh at a temperature at which mer- 
cury freezes. “They donot generally put on more than 
one sleeve, and hold the coat carefully closed by insert- 
ing the hand in a small pocket on the inside front. It 
is quite an art to wear a pelisse properly, and it is not 
acquired at once; the Russian imperceptibly gives it 
play, crosses it, doubles it, draws it around his body 
like a child’s swaddling-clothes or a mummy’s band- 
ages. The furs preserve for several hours the tem- 
perature of the anteroom in which they have been 
hung, and completely keep off the outer air. With 


the pelisse on, you are as warm when outside as when 


147 


deed cdeak hehe dh ch habehedockehe doch abe oh cbech 


wee awe eFe 


DRAV'E'L'S @ PN RES 


in the house, and if giving up the tempting elegance 
of a hat, you put on a wadded cap or beaver-fur cap, 
you can pull up your collar, the fur of which is then 
inside; the back of your neck, your head, and your ears 
are protected, — your nose alone, sticking out between 
the two furry walls, is exposed to the rigour of the 
weather ; but if it begins to turn white, people are kind 
enough to warn you of it, and by rubbing it with a 
handful of snow you soon restore its natural red 
colour. ‘These accidents happen only in exceptionally 
hard winters. Old dandies, rigid followers of London 
and Paris fashions, refusing to wear caps, have made 
especially for them hats with no brim behind, and a 
mere visor in front; for it is impossible to keep one’s 
collar turned down: the cold north wind would soon 
make the uncovered neck feel its icy teeth, as disagree- 
able as the contact of steel to the neck of the victim. 
The most delicate women are not afraid to drive 
about in carriages, and to breathe for an hour that icy 
but healthy and bracing air, that refreshes the lungs 
oppressed by the hothouse temperature of the dwellings. 
All that can be seen of them is their faces, made rosy 
by the cold; the rest of their person is one mass of 


pelisses and furs, in which it would be difficult to make 


148 


LEEAKLAELALLALPALAALA?LALALLLLS 
WINTER—THE NEVA 


out a human shape. Over their laps they spread great 
robes of white or black bearskin trimmed with scarlet; 
the carriage is thus made to resemble a boat filled with 
furs, from which emerge a few smiling faces. 

Having confounded the Dutch and Russian sleighs, 
I had imagined something very different from the latter. 
It is in Holland that are seen upon the frozen canals 
sleighs in fantastic shapes of swans, dragons, or sea- 
shells, fluted, grooved, gilded and painted by Hondekoe- 
ter or de Vost, the panels of which have been carefully 
preserved. They are drawn by horses, adorned with 
tufts, plumes, and bells, but more generally they are 
pushed by a skater. The Russian sleigh is no play- 
thing, no mere matter of luxury and amusement, used 
but for a few weeks ; it is, on the contrary, a vehicle 
in daily use and of the highest utility. Nothing has 
been changed in the necessary form, and the private 
sleigh is exactly like the izvochtchik’s, so far as the 
main lines go; only, the runners are of brighter 
steel, and have a more graceful curve. “The body of 
the sleigh is of mahogany or cane-work; the seats are 
upholstered in morocco; the dash-board is of varnished 
leather. A fur muff for the feet takes the place of 
hay; a costly robe that of the moth-eaten robe; the 


149 


ee er ee ee ee ee 


RAY ELS SN: RAGS ia ae 


details are better looked after and finer; that is the sole 
difference. Luxury exhibits itself in the dress of the 
coachmen, the beauty of the horses, and the speed of 
the equipage. As with the drojki, a second or off 
horse is often harnessed to the sleigh. 

But the finest thing in this way is the troika, a 
peculiarly Russian vehicle, full of local colour, and 
exceedingly picturesque. It is a large sleigh holding 
four people seated opposite each other, besides the 
coachman, and drawn by three horses. ‘The centre 
horse, placed between the shafts, has a collar, and 
curved douga above the withers; the two others are 
harnessed to the sleigh by an outer trace only, and a 
loose strap fastens them to the collar of the shaft 
horse; four reins are sufficient to drive the three 
animals, for the two outer horses are driven each with 
a single outside rein. It is a beautiful thing to see 
a troika fly along the Nevsky Prospect or Admiralty 
Square at the hour for the promenade. The shaft 
horse trots, stepping straight ahead; the two other 
horses gallop, spreading out like a fan; one of them 
must seem fiery, spirited, untameable, must throw up 
its head, pretend to shy and to kick,—that is the 


furious one; the other must shake its mane, bringing 


150 


tetbhttttbttetttttttbttt 
WINTER—THE NEVA 


its head to its breast, curvet, prance, touch its knees with 
its nose, rear prettily, spring to right or left according 
as its high spirits and its caprices impel it, — that is 
the coquettish one. ‘These three noble steeds, with 
their cheek-straps, metal chains, their harness as light as 
ribbons, on which sparkle here and there, like spangles, 
delicate gold ornaments, — recall those equipages of 
antiquity that draw upon triumphal arches bronze cars 
to which they are not fastened. “They seem to play and 
gambol in front of the troika, moved merely by their 
own desire. [he middle horse alone seems somewhat 
serious, like a quiet friend between two lively com- 
panions. Of course it is not easy to maintain this ap- 
parent disorder, when the speed is great, and when each 
animal has its own gait : — sometimes the furious one 
plays its part in real earnest, and the coquettish one 
rolls in the snow, so that it takes a consummately skil- 
ful coachman to drive atroika. It is exciting sport, and 
I am surprised that no gentleman rider in London or 
Paris has thought of copying it; it is true that snow 
does not last long enough in England and in France. 
As the sleighing remained good, after a few days 
coupés, berlins, and landaus appeared on runners ; 


these carriages have a curious look after the wheels 


151 


Bebe bbb bb bebibdcedebdbdecbb ebb 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


are taken off. ‘The sleigh itself is infinitely more 
graceful and characteristic. 

When I saw the pelisses, the sleighs, the troikas, 
and carriages, on runners, and the thermometer going 
down every moment one or two degrees more, I sup- 
posed that winter had fairly set in, but the wise old 
heads, accustomed to the climate, nodded sceptically, 
and said, ‘‘ No, it is not winter yet.” And indeed it 
was not winter, the real winter, the Russian and arctic 


winter, as I found out a little later. 


bebbbhtbetedbbbbbhe bb 
LRALELS, I NGROUSSTA 


keteetteteteeetettttetectte 


Wilner 


INTER this year has broken loose from 
Russian traditions, and has proved as capri- 
cious as a Parisian winter: one day the 


polar winds freeze its nose and turn its cheeks a waxen 
colour; the next day the southwest wind melts its icy 
mantle, that drops away in the form of rain. Sparkling 
snow is followed by dirty snow; the track, creaking 
under the runners of the sleigh like marble dust, turns 
into a filthy mess, worse than the macadam on the bou- 
levards; or else, in the course of a single night, the 
hairlike lines of spirits fall ten or twelve degrees in the 
thermometer ; a fresh white coat covers the roofs, and 
the drojkis disappear. When the temperature falls 
to between five and ten below, winter becomes char- 
acteristic and poetical, and is as rich in effects as the 
most gorgeous summer ; but up to this time it has lacked 
painters and poets. 

For a few days past we have had genuine Russian 


cold, and I purpose to note some of its aspects, for, 


153 


SLALD LALA LAS*EALAALALALL ALS 
NOR ASV EF: LS SigN pRE Wea i 


when it reaches that point, cold becomes visible, and 
one can see it clearly, without feeling it, through the 
double windows of a warm room. ‘The sky becomes 
clear and of a blue utterly unlike the Southern blue: it 
isa steely, icy blue, with a rare and delicate tone that 
no painter, not even Aivasovsky, has yet reproduced. 
The brilliant light gives out no heat, and the icy sun 
colours the cheeks of a few rosy clouds; the diamond- 
like snow sparkles ; it resembles Parian marble, and its 
whiteness increases when the frost hardens it. The trees, 
covered with frost crystals, look like immense quicksilver 
ramifications or the metallic flowers in a fairy garden. 

Put on your pelisse, turn up the collar, pull your fur 
cap down to your eyes, and hail the first izvochtchik 
that passes; he will hasten to you and draw up his 
sleigh by the pavement; however young he may be, it 
is certain his beard will be quite white,—his breath 
condensing in icicles around his face, purple with cold, 
has given him a patriarchal beard; his stiff hair strikes 
against his cheek-bones like frozen serpents, and the 
robe he spreads over your knees is strewn with millions 
of tiny white pearls. 

You are off: the sharp, penetrating, icy, but healthy 


wind strikes you in the face; the horse, heated by its 


154 


tt¢¢¢¢¢t¢¢¢¢¢¢¢e¢tti¢¢¢e¢¢4¢ 
WIN THEIRE \/ » 


own speed, breathes forth jets of smoke, like a dragon 
of fable, and from its perspiring sides rises a mist that 
follows it. As you drive along you see the horses of 
other izvochtchiks before their mangers; the perspira- 
tion has frozen on their bodies, they are frosted and as 
it were caught in a glassy crust of ice. When they 
start again the thin coating breaks, falls off, and melts, 
and is renewed as soon as they stop. These changes 
would kill an English horse in a week, but in no wise 
impair the health of these small steeds, which are thor- 
oughly hardened to cold. In spite of the rigour of the 
season, it is costly horses only that are provided with 
rugs ; instead of the caparisons and blankets with coats 
of arms at the corners, used to wrap up blood horses 
in France and England, here a Persian or Smyrna carpet 
of brilliant colours is thrown upon the smoking quarters 
of thoroughbreds. 

The windows of the karétas that fly along, placed on 
runners, are covered with an opaque layer of frost, form- 
ing quicksilver blinds, drawn by winter; they prevent 
your being seen, but also prevent your seeing out. If 
Love did not shiver in such temperature, it would find 
the karétas of St. Petersburg as mysteriously useful as 


Venetian gondolas. ‘The carriages drive across the 


155 


LEEEELE EEE Sette ths 
TRAVEDLSIUIN RUSS 


Neva; the ice, two or three feet thick, in spite of a few 
passing thaws which have merely melted the snow, will 
not move until spring, at the time of the great shove. 
It is thick enough to support heavy wains, and even 
artillery. Small fir trees mark the road to be followed 
and the places to be avoided. At certain spots the ice 
has been cut through to allow the water, which still flows 
under the crystal floor, to be drawn up. ‘The water, 
the temperature of which is higher than that of the 
outer air, smokes out of these openings like a boiling cal- 
dron; but this is merely relative, and it would not be 
wise to trust to its tepidity. 

It is interesting when one passes along the Anglis- 
kaya Nabérejnaia, or when one walks on the Neva, to 
watch the fish drawn from the fishermen’s stores, for 
sale in the city: when they are scooped out of the box 
and thrown quivering upon the deck of the vessel, they 
squirm two or three times, but soon stop, stiffened, and 
as it were imprisoned in a transparent casing: the water 
which wetted them has suddenly frozen around them. 

During the great cold, things freeze with surprising 
rapidity: if you put a bottle of champagne between 
your two windows, it will be iced in a few moments 


more thoroughly than in any ice-pail. 


156 


Lkieeeeetetteettttotetss 
Ww DN TER 


Yet the thermometer has fallen to three or four 
below zero only, and it is not the glorious cold, the great 
cold which usually comes about Epiphany. The 
Russians are complaining of the mildness of the winter, 
and say that the climate is changing. Yet the chilly 
Parisian cannot help feeling an arctic and polar impres- 
sion when, on leaving the Opera, he sees in the beautiful 
cold moonlight, on the great square white with snow, a 
line of private carriages and coachmen powdered with 
frost crystals, the horses fringed with silver, the pale 
lights quivering through the frosted lamps; and it is with 
the fear of being frozen on the road that he gets into 
his sleigh ; but his pelisse is impregnated with heat, and 
maintains a pleasant atmosphere around him. If he 
leaves the Malaia Morskaia or the Nevsky Prospect in 
the direction that compels him to pass St. Isaac’s, let 
him not forget to cast a glance at the church: pure white 
lines mark the great divisions of the building; and on 
the dome, showing faint in the darkness, there shines 
but a single spot on the most convex point, exactly 
opposite the moon, which seems to be looking at itself 
within that golden mirror. ‘That luminous point is so 
intensely brilliant that it might be mistaken for a lighted 


lamp; the whole brilliancy of the dazzling dome is 


157 


LEEALALALALLALAALLAALAL LLL ELS 
TRAV E'LS TIEN: YR OS Si 


concentrated there. It is absolutely magical, and nothing 
can be finer than that great temple of gold, bronze, and 
granite, placed upon a spotless ermine carpet, in the blue 
effulzence of the winter’s moon. 

Is it for the purpose of building an Ice Palace, 
as during the famous winter of 1740, that these long 
lines of sleighs are transporting huge blocks of water 
frozen into the shape of dressed stone, transparent as 
diamonds, and fitted to form the diaphanous walls of a 
temple dedicated to the mysterious Genius of the Pole? 
Not at all, —it is merely the ice-houses that are being 
filled ; the needs of the next summer cause to be cut 
on the Neva, at the most favourable season, those huge 
glass-like blocks with sapphire reflections, of which 
each sleigh carries a single one. ‘The drivers sit down 


on these blocks or lean on them as on cushions, and 


when the line of sleighs comes to a standstill, the. 


horses bite with thoroughly Northern gormandism, the 
block of ice in front of them. 

Notwithstanding all this cold, if you are invited to 
go to the Islands, accept without fear of losing your 
nose or your ears, — if you are weak enough to care for 
these pieces of cartilage. Have you not furs, which 


will preserve you thoroughly ? 


158 


ap 


LEELA LEELELE LEELA hb 
Wel N TBR 


The troika, or sleigh with the five seats and three 
horses, is at the door — go down quickly. Her feet in 
a bear-skin muff, wrapped up to the chin in a satin 
pelisse lined with zibeline marten, pressing to her 
bosom a wadded muff, her veil drawn down, and all 
covered with innumerable bright spots, she is only 
waiting for you before starting and fastening down the 
fur robe to the four studs on the sleigh; you will 
never feel the cold—those two lovely eyes would 
warm up the iciest temperature. 

In summer the Islands are to St. Petersburg what 
the Bois de Boulogne, Auteuil, and the Folies-Saint- 
James are to Paris, but in winter they do not quite 
merit the name of islands; the frost solidifies the 
canals, the snow covers them, and the islands are 
joined to the main land. During the cold weather 
there is but one element, — ice. 

The Neva is crossed, and the last Prospects of the 
Vassily Ostrov are left behind. The appearance of 
the buildings changes: the houses, less high, are sepa- 
rated by gardens with wooden fences, the boards placed 
lengthwise as in Holland; everywhere wood takes the 
place of stone, or rather of brick; the streets change 


into roads, and you are driving over a sheet of immacu- 


159 


BE¢ELEE Cee Sestttttstt ets 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


late snow, absolutely level. It is a canal. On the 
edge of the road small posts, intended to prevent car- 
riages from losing their way in this universal whiteness, 
look at a distance like kobolds or gnomes wearing 
tall, white felt caps, and close-fitting brown frocks. 
A few culverts, the beams of which show faintly under 
the snow drifted by the wind, alone indicate that one 
has crossed streams completely frozen and covered 
over. Soon rises a great fir wood, on the edge of 
which are built a few ¢ratkirs (restaurants) and tea- 
houses ; for people often go on picnics to the Islands at 
night in a temperature fit to make the mercury curl up 
within its bulb at the foot of the thermometer. 

Lovely indeed, between the black curtains of fir 
trees, are the long white drives, on which the sleigh- 
tracks, scarcely perceptible, look like scratches made 
by a diamond upon ground glass. The wind has 
shaken from the branches the snow that fell a few days 
ago. Only here and there are a few spots which shine 
against the dark verdure like high lights put on by 
a clever painter. The trunks of the fir trees rise 
like shafts of pillars, and justify the title ‘¢ Nature’s 
cathedrals,” which the Romanticists have given to 


forests. 


160 


LEELEALELELAALALALAL ALLA LAS 
WINTER 


When snow is one or two feet deep, walking 
becomes impossible, so on that long drive we meet 
only three or four male or female moujiks, wrapped up 
in their tulupes, and sinking with their heavy leather or 
felt boots in the thick white powder. A similar num- 
ber of dogs, black, or at least nearly so through the 
contrast of tones, run around in circles like Faust’s 
poodle, or accost each other. I notice the detail, 
which is no doubt puerile, but which marks that dogs 
are not numerous in St. Petersburg, since one takes 
notice of them. 

This portion of the Islands is called Krestovsky, and 
contains a lovely village of chalets or small summer 
homes, inhabited during the fine season by a colony of 
families, mostly German. ‘The Russians excel in 
wooden buildings, and cut out pine at least as skilfully 
as do the Tyrolese or the Swiss; they make of it 
embroidery, lace, fleurons, and all sorts of ornaments, 
worked out with the axe or the saw. These Kres- 
tovsky houses, built in the Helvetico-Muscovite style, 
must make charming summer residences. A great 
balcony, or rather a lower terrace, which forms a sort 
of open room, runs along the whole facade on the first 


floor; it is there that the inhabitants sit in the long 


VOL.I—11 161 


days of June and July, amid flowers and shrubs; 
pianos, tables, and sofas are brought out, so that the 
owners may enjoy the delight of living in the open air 
after being shut up in hothouses for eight months. 
With the very first fine weather, after the breaking up 
of the ice on the Neva, a general moving takes place; 
long caravans of carts, carrying furniture, proceed from 
St. Petersburg to the villas on the islands. As soon as 
the days shorten, and the evenings turn cold, every one 
returns to town, and the cottages are closed until the 
following year, though they remain just as picturesque 
under the snow, which transforms their wooden lattice- 
work into silver filigree. 

On continuing one soon reaches a wide clearing, in 
which rise what are called Russian mountains (switch- 
backs) in France, and ice hills in Russia. There was 
a perfect mania for switchbacks in Paris in the early 
days of the Restoration; they were to be found at 
Belleville and other public gardens, but the differ- 
ence in climate necessitated a change in construction. 
Wheeled chariots ran in grooves, on a sharp slope, and 
carried along by the force of impulsion ascended to 
an esplanade lower than the starting-point. Accidents 


were frequent, for at times the cars ran off the track; 


162 


this was why the dangerous amusement was given up. 
The ice mounds of St. Petersburg are composed of a 
light lodge with a platform, reached by a wooden stair ; 
the chute, formed of planks, with a balustrade, is sup- 
ported by posts, and falls in a curve, sharp at first, then 
gentler, on which is poured repeatedly water that 
freezes and forms a slide as polished as a mirror. ‘The 
corresponding lodge has a separate track, which pre- 
vents any dangerous collisions. Three or four people 
go down together on a sleigh, guided by a man who 
sits behind; or else one goes down alone upon a small 
sleigh, steered by the hand, the foot, or the end of a 
stick. Bolder people fly down on their stomachs, or 
in some other apparently hazardous position, which is 
not really perilous. “The Russians are very skilful in 
this eminently national sport, which they practise from 
childhood. It affords them the pleasure of extreme 
rapidity in great cold, a thoroughly Northern feeling 
which the foreigner, coming from warmer regions, 
finds it difficult at first to understand, but which he 
soon shares. 

Very often on leaving a theatre or evening party, 
when the snow lies like crushed marble, and the moon 


becomes clear and icy cold, or on moonless nights 


163 


bebbetbebtetetetettttetetets 
WR A V ESAS GaN Fees eae 


when the stars shine with frosty brilliancy, — a party 
of young people, instead of returning to their well- 
lighted, comfortable, and warm homes, start, well- 
wrapped up in their furs, to go and sup at the Islands ; 
they get into a troika, and the swift equipage, with its 
three horses spread out like the branches of a fan, goes 
off with tinkling bells, making the snow fly. The 
sleeping innkeeper is awakened, the lamps are lighted, 
the samovar is set boiling, the champagne is iced, 
dishes of caviare, ham, shreds of herring, chicken-pies, 
and cakes are placed on the table. ‘They eat, drink 
of many wines, laugh, talk, smoke, and by way of 
dessert slide down the ice hills, lighted by moujiks 
holding torches. ‘They return to town about two or 
three in the morning, enjoying, as they speed along in 
the sharp, clean, healthy air of night, the delights of 
cold; for cold has a delight, a cool intoxication, a diz- 
ziness of whiteness, which I, the chilliest of all men, 
am beginning to appreciate like a Northerner. 

If frost-bite has not made this icy description of a 
Russian winter fall from my reader’s hands, and he is 
bold enough to face again in my company the rigour 
of the weather, let him come with me, after drinking a 


glass of good hot tea, to take a turn upon the Neva, 


164 


debbek sh bbb bbb hot 
WINTER 


and pay a visit to the camp of the Samoyedes, who 
have settled down in the very centre of the river, as 
the only place in St. Petersburg cool enough for them. 
“These polar beings are like white bears; three to four 
degrees below zero strike them as a springlike temper- 
ature,in which they gasp with heat. ‘Their migrations 
are not regular, and are directed by unknown reasons 
or caprices. It is years since they had been here, and 
it is a piece of good luck that they should have arrived 
during my stay in the City of the Czars. 

We will go down to the Neva by Admiralty Square, 
down the slope, tramped down and slippery, after cast- 
ing a glance at Falconnet’s Peter the Great, which the 
cold has provided with a white wig, and whose horse 
must surely be calked to enable it to keep its equilib- 
rium upon the block of Finland granite which serves it 
as a pedestal. A curious crowd, grouped round the hut 
of the Samoyedes, forms a black circle on the whiteness 
of the snow-covered river. We slip in between a 
moujik in his tulupe, and a soldier in a gray overcoat, 
and over a woman’s shoulder glance into the tent of 
skins fastened by pegs driven into the ice, and resem- 
bling a big paper bag placed point up. A low opening, 


which can be entered only by crawling on all. fours, 


165 


che ce obs ob obs al able abe all oll ohn ofeebs obo obs ob ole obs abe ole obe obs ebeofe 


OPO Fe CFO whe OFS FO WO UTS OTe Fe Ute OTe UTE 


TRAV PLCSTIN VRS oie 


enables one to get a glimpse, in the darkness, of bun- 
dles of furs, which may possibly be men or women — 
it is impossible to tell which. Outside, a few skins are 
hung on cords, snow-shoes are thrown on the ice, and a 
Samoyede standing by a sleigh, appears to lend himself 
complacently to the ethnographic investigations of the 
crowd; he is dressed in a hooded sack, the fur inside; 
a place for the face is cut out of the hood, and makes 
it resemble those knitted caps called passe-montagnes, or 
a helmet without a visor; great mittens covering up 
the sleeves, so as to allow no passage for the air, and 
thick boots of white felt, fastened by straps, complete 
this inelegant costume, which, however, is hermetically 
closed against the cold, and which for the matter of 
that is rather characteristic. “The colour is that of the 
leather itself, tanned and softened by primitive proc- 
esses. The face framed in by the hood, sunburned, 
reddened by the air, shows prominent cheek-bones, a 
flat nose, a wide mouth, steel-gray eyes, with blond eye- 
lashes, but not ugly, and marked by a sad, intelligent, 
and sweet expression. 

These Samoyedes live here by charging a few kopecks 
for a drive on the Neva in their sleighs drawn by two 


reindeer. These sleighs, which are exceedingly light, 


166 


bebebbbebtbbetebtttttteee 
WEN TER 


have only one small seat, covered with a piece of fur, 
on which sits the traveller. “The Samoyede, standing 
on one of the wooden runners, drives by means of a 
long switch with which he touches the reindeer, to 
increase the pace or to change the direction. Each 
team is composed of three reindeer, harnessed in a line, 
or four harnessed four-in-hand. It is curious and 
strange to see these dainty, frail-looking animals, with 
their slender legs and stag’s-antlers, running so docilely, 
and drawing burdens. ‘The reindeer go very fast, or 
rather seem to go very fast, for their movements are 
extremely lively and rapid; but they are small, and I 
fancy that a trotter of the Orloff breed would easily 
distance them, especially if the race was long. These 
light sleighs describing great curves on the Neva, 
swinging around, returning to their starting-point after 
having scarcely marked the surface of the river, —are 
most graceful indeed. A connoisseur said that the 
reindeer were not at their best, because it was too warm 
for them —about forty-five; and in fact one of the 
poor animals, which had been unharnessed, seemed to 
be suffocating, and snow was being heaped upon it to 
revive it. 


The sleighs and reindeer filled my imagination with 


167 


LELHEP SESE ASA HetStttttts 
DR AV EDS tN GR SS tee 


a fantastic nostalgia of their frozen country. Although 
I have spent my life in seeking sunshine, I felt myself 
seized with a curious love of cold: the North was 
casting its magic spell upon me, and if important work 
had not kept me in St. Petersburg, I should have gone 
off with the Samoyedes. What a delight it would be 
to fly at full speed back towards the Pole, with its 
corona of aurora borealis, — first through pine forests 
laden down with snow, then through half buried birch 
woods, then over an immaculately white wilderness, 
over the sparkling snow, —a strange land, the silvery 
aspect of which might easily lead you to believe that 
you are travelling in the moon, — in the sharp, cutting, 
icy-cold air, in which corruption is unknown, even in 
death. I should like to have lived for a few days 
under the tent, glistening with frost, half buried in the | 
snow, which the reindeer scrape with their feet to 
uncover the short, scanty moss. Fortunately the 
Samoyedes went off one fine morning, and on going to 
the Neva to see them again I found only the gray 
circle that marked the place of their hut; and with 
them disappeared my haunting fancy. 

Since I am talking of the Neva let me note the 


singular aspect imparted to it by the blocks of ice cut 


168 


LLLEE ELE LLLEELEL ELSE EEE 
WINTER 


from the thick coat that covers it,and which are cast 
here and there like great pieces of stone, until they are 
carried away. It makes the river look like crystal 
or diamond workings; the transparent blocks assume 
strange, prismatic tints, and all the colours of the solar 
spectrum, according as the light strikes them. In 
certain places, where they are heaped up, one might 
think a fairy palace had fallen in ruins, especially at 
night when the sun sets in the green, cold sky, traversed 
on the horizon by bands of carmine. ‘The effects 
amaze the eye, and yet a painter dare not reproduce 
them lest he should be accused of improbability or 
falsehood. Imagine a long snow valley formed by the 
river bed, with rosy lights and blue shadows, sprinkled 
with enormous diamonds sparkling like tapers, and 
ending in a crimson light by way of contrast; in the 
foreground a boat caught in the ice, a sleigh, or a 
pedestrian, slowly crossing from one quay to the 
other. 

On turning towards the fortress, when night has 
fallen, two parallel lines of stars are seen lighting up 
the quays and river: they are the lights of the lamps 
planted in the ice on the site of the Troitsky bridge of 


boats, which is taken away in winter, for the Neva, as 


169 


TRAY ELS PEN Bes Sie 


soon as it freezes, becomes a second Nevsky Prospect 
and the principal artery of the city. For us inhabi- 
tants of temperate regions, where in the most rigorous 
winters the rivers scarcely carry a few ice-floes, it is 
dificult not to feel some apprehension when driving 
across the great stream, the deep waters of which flow 
silently under the crystal flooring, that might crack 
open and close over one like a trap; soon, however, 
the quiet look of the Russians reassures one, and be- 
sides, it would take enormous weights to break down 
a layer of ice two or three feet thick, and the snow 
which covers it makes it look like a plain. Nothing 
distinguishes the river from the mainland save here and 
there, along the quays, which look like walls, a few 
boats in winter quarters, caught by the cold. 

The Neva is a power in St. Petersburg ; it is honoured 
and its waters are blessed with great pomp; this cere- 
mony, which is called the Baptism of the Neva, occurs 
on the sixth of January (Russian style). I witnessed 
it from one of the windows of the Winter Palace, to 
which I had been graciously invited. Although the 
weather that day was very mild for the season of the 
year, which is usually that of the severest cold, it would 


have been difficult for me, as I was not yet quite ac- 


170 


— 


abe obs obs obs alls abe abe abe obs ale abe cboole obo elly oly ob ols oe oe fle ofl cbr ols 


whe ame Cre CFO ore CFO ore CFO OF 


WeEN. Tr Bok 


climated, to remain for an hour or two bare-headed on 
that frozen quay, down which a shivering wind is always 
blowing. The great halls of the palace were filled 
with an aristocratic crowd: high dignitaries, ministers, 
the diplomatic body, generals embroidered all over with 
gold and covered with orders, came and went between 
lines of soldiers in full uniform, waiting for the cere- 
mony to begin. Divine service was first celebrated in 
the palace chapel. Concealed within a gallery I fol- 
lowed with respectful interest the ritual of a worship 
new to me and full of the mysterious majesty of the 
Orient. From time to time, at prescribed moments, 
a venerable old man with long beard and hair, wearing 
a mitre like a mage, and a dalmatic stiff with silver and 
gold embroidery, supported by two acolytes, issued 
from the sanctuary, the doors of which opened, and 
recited the sacred formule in a senile but distinct voice. 
While he chanted his lines I could perceive in the 
sanctuary, amid the scintillations of the gilding and 
the tapers, the Emperor and the Imperial family ; then 
the doors closed, and the service continued behind the 
dazzling veil of the Ikonostas. The singers, the 
chapel choristers, in great, flame-coloured velvet coats, 


trimmed with gold, accompanied and supported, with 


171 


PLAPADALALLLALAALALLAELAL LAL ESSA 
TRAV ELS SIN VRS 574 


the marvellous precision of Russian choirs, hymns in 
which must be contained more than one old theme of 
the lost music of the Greeks. 

After mass the procession filed through the halls of 
the palace to proceed to the baptism, or rather the 
blessing, of the Neva. The Emperor, the Grand 
Dukes in uniform, the clergy in gold and silver copes 
and beautiful ecclesiastical robes of Byzantine cut, 
the multitude of generals, the great officers, traversing 
the compact mass of troops drawn up in the rooms, 
formed a spectacle as magnificent as it was imposing. 

On the Neva itself, opposite the Winter Palace and 
close to the quay, connected with the palace by a 
carpeted platform, had been constructed a pavilion, or 
rather a chapel, with light pillars supporting a cupola 
of trellis-work, painted green, from which hung a repre- 
sentation of the Holy Ghost surrounded with rays. In 
the centre of the platform, under a dome, was the mouth 
of a well, surrounded with a balustrade, and communi- 
cating with the waters of the Neva, the icy covering 
of which had been cut at this spot. A line of soldiers, 
pretty well apart, kept the ground free on the river for 
quite a distance around the chapel; they remained bare- 


headed, their helmets by their sides, their feet in the 


172 


HEELEAELLALEALAELAALALLALLE LSS 
WINTER 


snow, so absolutely motionless that they might have 
been mistaken for guide-posts. 

Under the windows of the palace itself, pawed and 
stamped, held in by their riders, the horses of the Cir- 
cassians, Lesghins, Tcherkesses, and Cossacks, who 
formed the Emperor’s escort. It gives one a curious 
sensation to see in a highly civilised place which is not 
a hippodrome or an opera, warriors resembling those 
of the Middle Ages, with helmets and coats of mail, 
armed with bows and arrows, or else dressed in Orien- 
tal fashion, having Persian carpets for saddles, for 
swords curved Damascus blades covered with verses 
of the Koran, and all of them ready to figure in the 
cavalcade of an emir or a caliph. 

Martial and proud faces, of a wild purity of type, 
slender, lithe, muscular bodies of elegant port, show 
under these costumes so characteristic in cut, so happy 
in colour, and so well fitted to set off human beauty. 
It is really a curious thing that so-called barbaric 
people alone know how to dress; civilised races have, 
I think, lost the feeling for costume. 

The procession issued from the palace, and from my 
window, through the double sashes, I saw the Em- 


peror, the Grand Dukes, and the priests enter the 


Pis5 


TVA YES 


pavilion, which was soon so full that it was difficult 
to follow the gestures of the officiating clergy, as they 
bent over the orifice of the well. Tvhe guns on the 
other side of the river from the Exchange Quay, fired, 
one after the other, at the supreme moment. A great 
ball of bluish smoke, lighted by a flash, burst between 
the snowy carpet of the river and the grayish white 
sky ; then the report made the window-panes tremble. 
The reports followed each other with perfect regularity. 
Cannon-firing is at once terribly solemn and joyous, 
like everything that is strong; its voice, that roars in 
battle, mingles equally well with feasts; it adds to them 
an element unknown to the ancients, who had neither 
bells nor artillery. Noise alone can speak in the midst 
of great multitudes, and make itself heard in vast 
spaces. 

The ceremony was over, the troops filed past, and 
the throng of sight-seers withdrew peacefully without 
disorder, as is the habit of the Russian crowds, which 


are the most orderly of all. 


174 


ove ere ofe 


HERE are to be races on the Neva to-day. 

Let me not neglect this opportunity of becom- 

ing acquainted with a Northern sport which 
has its own elegance, its own refinement, its own curi- 
ous side, and which excites as lively passions as other 
sports do in England or in France. 

The Nevsky Prospect and the streets leading to the 
great square on which rises the Alexander Column, a gi- 
gantic monolith of rose granite which surpasses Egyptian 
enormities, — present a spectacle of extraordinary ani- 
mation, analogous to that in the Avenue des Champs- 
Elysées, when a steeple-chase at Marche attracts all the 
fashionable turn-outs. ‘Troikas dash by, with tink- 
ling bells, drawn by their three horses, harnessed in fan 
shape, and each keeping up a different gait. The 
sleighs slide along on their steel runners, drawn by 
splendid steppers, held in with difficulty by coachmen 
wearing square velvet caps, and blue or green kaftans. 


Other two-horse, four-seated sleighs, berlins, barouches 


175 


BLALE ALA SHS etttttest 
DekeALV ED SOREN] ORES ex 


taken off their wheels and placed on runners turned up 
at the ends, are driving in the same direction, the whole 
forming a host of carriages becoming constantly more 
crowded. An old-fashioned Russian sleigh, with its 
leather dashboard stretched out like a stunsail, and its 
little wild-maned horse, galloping by the side of a trot- 
ter, slips in and out of the inextricable labyrinth, twist- 
ing, speeding, and covering its neighbours with white 
dust. 

Such a concourse of carriages in Paris would produce 
a great rumour, a prodigious noise, but in St. Peters- 
burg the picture is noisy to the eye alone, if I may so 
express it: the snow, which interposes its soft carpet 
between the pavement and the vehicles, destroys sound ; 
on the roads, which have been padded by winter, the 
steel of the runners makes scarcely as much noise as a 
diamond cutting a pane of glass. “he moujiks’ small 
whips do not crack; the masters, enveloped in their 
furs, do not speak, for if they did their words would 
soon be frozen like those which Panurge met near the 
Pole; and the crowd moves along with wordless 
activity, in the midst of a silent whirlwind. Although 
utterly unlike, it is somewhat the same effect as 


Venice produces. 


176 


bebbebbteebtetettttett dts 
| Ge Old ale: eed THB NEV A 


Pedestrians are rare, for no one walks in Russia, 
except moujiks, whose felt boots enable them to walk 
safely on the pavements cleared of snow, but often 
glazed with ice, especially dangerous when one wears 
the indispensable galoshes. 

Between the Admiralty and the Winter Palace, lies 
the wooden platform that leads down the quay to the 
river. At this place the several lines of sleighs and 
carriages are compelled to slow down, and even to 
stop altogether until it is their turn to descend. 

Let me profit by this stoppage to examine the people 
with whom chance has placed us in contact. The 
men wear pelisses, with military caps or beaver caps: 
hats are infrequent, partly from the fact that it is not a 
warm covering, and because the brim prevents the col- 
lar of the pelisse being turned up, the lower portion of 
the head being thus left exposed to the icy blast. But 
the women are dressed less heavily ; they do not appear 
to feel the cold nearly as much as the men. A black 
satin pelisse lined with zibeline marten or blue Siberian 
fox, and a muff of the same fur, are all that they add to 
their street dress, which is in every respect like that of 
the most elegant women of Paris. ‘Their white necks, 


which the cold does not succeed in reddening, rise free 


VOL. 1— 12 iy | 


che ote abe abe abe be abe abe abe abe cba abecde of eel of eof oe ool obo oe 
TRAVELS WN CRIBS La 


and bare out of the fur capes, and their heads are pro- 
tected only by coquettish French bonnets, the crown 
of which leaves the hair partly exposed, while the back 
portion scarcely covers the back of the neck. I think 
with terror of the colds, the neuralgias, and the rheu- 
matisms which these unprotected beauties run the risk 
of for the sake of being in the fashion, or exhibiting 
handsome hair in a country and in a temperature where 
it is sometimes perilous to returna bow. Animated by 
the fire of coquetry, they do not appear to feel the cold 
in the least. 

Russia, with its immense extent of territory, com- 
prises many different races, and the types of feminine 
beauty vary greatly ; yet as characteristic traits may be 
mentioned a remarkable whiteness of skin, gray-blue 
eyes, golden or brown hair, and a certain stoutness due 
to lack of exercise and the seclusion consequent on 
a winter lasting from seven to eight months. One 
would take these Russian beauties for odalisques which 
the Genius of the North keeps shut up in a hothouse. 
They have a cold-cream and snow complexion, with 
camellia tints, like the beauties of the seraglio, who 
constantly keep veiled and whose skin has never been 


touched by the sun. On the whiteness of their faces 


178 


che che obs ob oe oe che abe ae afr abe aboche cho obs fe ofr be af cbe abe ob ohooh 
RAGES OR i THR N/V A 


their delicate features show like the features of the face 
in the moon, and these faint lines form physiog- 
nomies of hyperborean sweetness and Arctic grace. 

But as if to give the lie to my description, here in a 
sleigh drawn up near my troika shines a purely South- 
ern beauty, with eyebrows of velvety black, aquiline 
nose, long oval face, charming complexion, lips red as 
pomegranates, a pure Caucasian type, perhaps but yes- 
terday a Mahometan. Here and there eyes somewhat 
wrinkled and rising towards the temple at the outer 
angle recall the fact that in one direction Russia bor- 
ders on China. Dainty Finnish ladies, with white and 
rosy complexions, present a Northern variety of type 
that contrasts with beautiful Odessa Greeks, easily 
known by their straight noses and their great black 
eyes, like those of Byzantine Madonnas. All this 
forms a charming ensemble, and these pretty heads rise 
like winter flowers out of a mass of furs, which are 
themselves covered over with a white or black bear- 
skin-robe, thrown over the sleighs and barouches. 

The Neva is reached by a broad, sloping platform 
between the bronze lions on the quay, the pedestals of 
which indicate the extremities of the landing-place 


when the stream, freed from ice, is traversed by 


if. 


tHebbbettbttbtettetbttttettt 
TRAVELS §#2NORG#SSiA 


numerous vessels. “Ihe sky was not, that day, of the 
bright azure noticed when the cold falls below zero: 
a vast pall of very soft, very delicate, pearly gray cloud, 
evidently holding snow, hung over the city and seemed 
to rest on the steeples and spires as upon golden. pil- 
lars. This neutral white tint brought out the full 
value of the buildings, painted in light tints, relieved by 
silver lines. On the other side of the river, which 
looked like a valley half filled by avalanches, were seen 
the rostral columns of rose granite, that stand near the 
classical Exchange; on the point of the island which 
divides the Neva into two branches, the boldly gilded 
lines of the Fortress steeple rose in the air, made more 
brilliant by the gray tone of the sky. 

The race course stretched across the river, with its 
grand-stands of wooden boards, and the track: marked 
out by ropes fastened to posts planted in the ice, and 
by improvised hedges of pine branches. “The number 
of spectators in carriages was enormous; privileged 
persons occupied the stands,— if it be a privilege to 
remain motionless in the cold in an open gallery. 
Around the race course, sleighs, troikas, barouches, 
telegas, and other more or less primitive vehicles were 


drawn up two and three deep; for there seems to be no 


180 


LEELA LLALALLALLALALLELALLALELS 
BRACE SMO UE \Tdigaa NEN. A 


restriction to this popular pleasure, — the river bed is 
free to everybody. ‘The men and women, in order to 
see better, climbed to the coachmen’s boxes and the 
back-seats. By the barriers stood the moujiks in 
sheepskin tulupes and felt boots, soldiers in long over- 
coats, and such people as had been unable to find 
better places. This multitude, swarming black upon 
the ice floor of the Neva, made me feel somewhat 
uneasy, though no one else seemed to remember that a 
deep river, about as wide as the Thames at London 
Bridge, was flowing under an ice crust at least two or 
three feet thick, while at any one point thousands of 
spectators and a considerable number of horses, to say 
nothing of equipages of all kinds, were massed together. 
But the Russian winter proved true, and did not play 
the trick of opening trap-doors to swallow up the 
multitude. 

Outside the race course the coachmen were warm- 
ing up the horses that had not yet competed, or else 
walked, to cool them down gradually under their Per- 
sian blankets, the handsome animals that had already 
raced. 

The course is in the shape of a long ellipse. The 


sleighs do not start abreast: they are placed at handi- 


181 


RLLAAALA LSPS eee ttttttese 


eee FO VTS Te ore ose oe 


BRAVE LS SUN GR Ss ie 


cap intervals, according to the greater or less speed of 
the trotters. “Iwo sleighs were placed opposite the 
grand-stand, two others at the extremities of the 
ellipse, awaiting the starting signal. Occasionally a 
man on horseback gallops alongside a trotter to excite 
it, and induce it to bring out its full speed through 
rivalry. A sleigh horse must not break its trot, but 
sometimes the gait is so fast that a galloping horse 
finds it difficult to keep up, though once well started 
its companion leaves it to itself. Many coachmen, 
sure of the staying powers of their animals, disdain to 
have recourse to this method and drive unaccompanied. 
Any trotter which breaks and goes more than six 
strides at a gallop, is disqualified. 

It is a splendid sight to see these superb animals 
which have often cost incredible sums flying over the 
smooth ice, that, cleared of snow, shows like a strip of 
dark glass. Their breath issues in long jets of vapour 
from their red nostrils ; their flanks are bathed in mist, 
and their tails seem to be powdered with diamond- 
dust: the calks of their shoes bite into the smooth, 
slippery surface, and they devour space with the same 
proud security as if they were trotting over the best- 


beaten drive in the park. The drivers, throwing them- 


182 


febbebebebbbetbbbhbbbtettet 


RAC iS Or 1 Tebiee NIRV A 


selves well back, hold the reins one in each hand, for 
horses as powerful as these, drawing an insignificant 
weight, and having to be kept from galloping, need to 
be held in rather than urged on. The animals also find 
in the tension a support which allows them to bring 
out their best speed. Prodigious indeed are the strides of 
these steppers, which seem to be biting their own knees. 

As far as I could see there was no particular condi- 
tion of age or weight imposed upon the competitors ; 
all that is asked is a certain speed within a given time, 
measured by achronometer ; at least, this is what seemed 
to me to be the case. Often troikas compete with 
sleighs, drawn by one or two horses ; every one selects 
the vehicle or equipage which he considers most suit- 
able; sometimes even a spectator who has come up in 
his sleigh takes a fancy to try his luck and enters the 
competition. 

At the races which I am describing, a rather pict- 
uresque incident occurred: a moujik who had come 
from Vladimir, it was said, bringing to the city a load 
of wood or frozen meat, was watching the races on his 
rustic troika, in the midst of the crowd. He wore a 
tulupe shining with grease, an old, worn fur cap, and 


ilmp, white felt boots; a discoloured, unkempt, curly 


\ 183 


che oh abe ob oe abe he abe he abe echo teed abe oben toch oe oe obec 


ete OTS whe OFS wTe ave ate ewe ore ove 


MORCAIW FE: D'S SION RES rl oy 


beard covered his chin. His team was: composed of 
three horses, wild-maned, furry as bears, disgustingly 
dirty, icicles hanging under their bellies, carrying their 
heads low and chewing the snow heaped up on the river. 
A douga as high as an ogee, painted with stripes and 
zigzags of startling colours, was the most stylish part 
of the equipage, and no doubt had been cut out with 
an axe by the moujik himself. This wild and primitive 
turn-out formed the strangest contrast with the richly 
appointed sleighs, <he splendid troikas, and the elegant 
equipages, the horses of which stamped and pawed around 
the race course. More than one ironical glance was 
cast upon the humble vehicle. ‘The truth is that amid 
all that wealth it produced the effect of a stain of cart- 
grease upon an ermine cloak. 

The little horses, however, with their hair sticking 
with frozen sweat, cast through the stiff hair of their 
manes side glances at the thorough-breds which seem to 
move away from them disdainfully, for even animals 
despise poverty. There was a flash of fire in their eyes, 
and they stamped on the ice with their dainty hoofs that 
ended their slender, muscular legs, with fetlocks like 
eagles’ feathers. “Ihe moujik standing on his seat was 


watching the races without appearing surprised at the 


184 


SPELLED ALPAALAALELALLAL ELSA 


oTe Fe wpe wre 


hn CES POP) Bia NEY A 


performances of the trotters; sometimes indeed a smile 
flitted under the bristles of his mustache, his gray eye 
sparkled with slyness and he seemed to say to himself, 
“ We could do just as well.” Then suddenly making 
up his mind he entered the course and tried his luck. 
The three little cub-like horses proudly shook their 
heads as if they understood that they had to maintain 
the reputation of the poor horses of the steppes, and 
without being urged started at such a pace that the 
other competitors began to be alarmed. ‘Their little 
slender legs went like the wind, and they won over all 
the thorough-breds, whether English, Barb, or Orloff, by 
one minute and a few seconds. ‘The moujik had not 
rated his horses too high. “The prize was awarded him; 
it was a magnificent piece of silver plate, made by 
Vaillant, the fashionable silversmith of St. Petersburg. 
The victory excited the highest enthusiasm among 
the usually silent and calm people, and as the winner 
left the race course amateurs crowded round him and 
tried to buy his horses; he was offered as much as three 
thousand roubles apiece, an enormous price both for the 
animals and the man. I am bound to say, to the mou- 
jik’s honour, that he absolutely refused to part with 
them. Wrapping up his piece of plate in some old 


185 


gebbbtbbetbeebht dtd deéeot2s 
PRAVELS TN RUSS Te 


stuff, he climbed back on his troika and returned to 
Vladimir the same way he had come, refusing at any 
price to part with the dear animals which had made of 
him for a moment the lion of St. Petersburg. 

The races were finished and the carriages left the 
river bed for the various quarters of the city. The 
ascent of the wooden platforms that connect the Neva 
and the quays would furnish a painter of equine scenes, 
Svertzkov, for instance, with a characteristic and interest- 
ing picture. As they ascended the steep slope, the noble 
animals arched their necks, clutched at the slippery 
boards with their hoofs, and pressed hard on their mus- 
cular legs ; it was a confusion full of picturesque effects, 
and that might have been dangerous but for the skill of 
the Russian coachmen. ‘The sleighs ascended four or 
five abreast, in regular lines, and more than once I felt 
at the back of my neck the warm breath of an impatient 
trotter that would willingly have passed over’ my head 
had he not been held in by main force. More than once 
a flake of foam from a silver bit fell upon the bonnet of 
some frightened woman, and made her cry out. The 
carriages looked like an army of cars storming the gran- 
ite quays of the Neva, which were not unlike the para- 


pets of a fortress; but in spite of the tumult there was 


186 


tttéeb¢¢¢eee¢teeeertttt¢etet 
RA CES) OF) THIRD NEV A 


no accident,—the absence of wheels makes it more 
difficult for the carriages to interlock, — and the equi- 
pages scattered in every direction at a speed that would 
alarm Parisian prudence. 

It is a great pleasure, when one has remained two or 
three hours in the open air, exposed to a wind that has 
passed over the Polar snows, to return home, throw off 
one’s pelisse and galoshes, wipe from one’s mustache 
the melting icicles, and light a cigar — for smoking is 
forbidden in the streets of St. Petersburg; the warm 
atmosphere of the stove caresses the benumbed body, 
and restores suppleness to the limbs. A glass of very 
hot tea (in Russia tea is not drunk in cups) makes one 
quite comfortable, as the English say ; the circulation 
suspended by the cold is re-established, and one enjoys 
that peculiar house-charm, which Southerners, living 
altogether in the open air, are unacquainted with. 

But the day is already drawing to a close, for night 
comes on quickly in St. Petersburg, and by three 
o’clock lamps have to be lighted; the chimneys smoke 
on the roofs of the houses, emitting culinary vapours ; 
everywhere the ranges are blazing, for dinner is earlier 
in the City of the Czars than in Paris: six o’clock is 


the latest hour, and that only for people who have trav- 


id 


187 


checks be che he te ol he heb eee hecho elec cheb cheb 
RAV EES PING ROSSA a 


elled and acquired French or English habits. It so 
happens that I am invited to dinner, —I must dress ; 
over my evening clothes I put on my pelisse, and again 
plunge my feet into the heavy fur galoshes. 

Night has fallen; the temperature also; a genuine 
Arctic wind drifts the snow over the pavements like 
smoke. [he snow skreaks under the runners; in the 
misty sky shine the great pale stars, and through the dark- 
ness glitters on the gilded dome of St. Isaac’s a lumi- 
nous spangle like a sanctuary lamp that never goes out. 
_ I pull the collar of my pelisse up to my eyes; I draw 
over my knees the bear-skin robe in the sleigh, and 
without feeling the difference of thirty degrees between 
the temperature of my home and that of the street, I am 
soon brought, thanks tothe regulation za prava, na leva 
(right, left,) to the house where I am expected. Even at 
the foot of the stairs the hothouse atmosphere seizes 
upon me, and liquefies the icicles on my beard. In the 
antechamber a servant, an old soldier on half-pay, who 
still wears a military overcoat, strips off my furs, which 
he hooks up among those of the other guests, every 
one of whom has already arrived, for punctuality is a 
Russian quality: it is not in Russia that Louis X1V 


could have said, “ I almost had to wait.”’ 


188 


HELPED ALA SAALASE LA LLLE Let 


hay ELS” TNR USSLA 


Ro es rN NY ee CS 


USSIAN antechambers have an aspect of their 
R own. The pelisses suspended on the racks, 
with their flabby sleeves and straight folds, 
faintly suggest human bodies hung up; the galoshes 
placed below simulate the feet, and the effect of the 
furs in the doubtful light of the little lamp hanging 
from the ceiling is quite fantastic. Hoffman would 
lodge queer phantoms of archivists or Aulic counsellors 
in their mysterious folds; we Frenchmen who are re- 
duced to Perrault’s “ Tales,” see in them Blue Beard’s 
seven wives in the black room. Suspended thus near 
the stove, the furs imbibe heat, which they preserve 
outside for an hour or two. Servants are marvellously 
clever at knowing the different coats; even with a 
number of guests, when the antechamber resembles 
a fur store, they never make a mistake, and hand to 
each person his own garment. 
A comfortable Russian home combines all the re- 


finements of French and English civilisation. At the 


189 


HLLSELAL AAA ALAA A AA ttt tte 
MURAV EOIDS SUN) Ra ol ee 


first glance one might fancy one’s self in the West 
End or the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, but soon innu- 
merable curious details mark the local characteristics. 
First, the Byzantine Madonna with the Child —the 
brown faces and hands showing through the spaces cut 
out in the silver or silver-gilt plate, which represents 
the draperies — glimmers by the light of a lamp 
kept constantly burning, and gives you to understand 
you are neither in Paris nor in London, but in ortho- 
dox Russia, in holy Russia. Occasionally a picture 
of the Saviour takes the place of that of the Virgin. 
Saints, usually the namesakes of the master or mistress 
of the house, are also to be seen, encrusted with gold- 
smith work, and wearing golden halos. 

Then the climate compels certain precautions, 
Everywhere there are double windows, and the space 
left free between the two sashes is covered with a 
layer of fine sand intended to absorb the moisture, thus 
preventing the frost from obscuring the panes with its 
silvery bloom. Little bags of salt are stuck in it, and 
at times the sand is concealed under a layer of moss. 
The double sashes are the cause that in Russia win- 
dows have neither shutters, outer blinds, nor jalousies ; 


they can neither be opened nor closed, for the outer 


1g0 


Letebeebeteetetbettetbtes 
RUSSIAN INTERIORS 


sashes are put on for the winter, and carefully caulked. 
A single sliding pane serves to renew the air, — an un- 
pleasant and even dangerous operation on account of 
the great difference between the temperature outside 
and inside of the house. ‘Thick curtains of rich stuffs 
further check the effect which the cold might have 
on the glass, which is much more permeable than is 
believed. 

The rooms are larger and higher ceiled than in 
Paris. Our architects ,;who are so ingenious in design- 
ing hives for human bees, would put a whole apartment 
and even two stories in a single St. Petersburg drawing 
room. As all the doors are hermetically closed, and 
the entrance door opens into a heated hall, the tem- 
perature is always kept up to sixty at least, which 
enables ladies to wear muslin dresses, and to go about 
in gowns with low necks and short sleeves. The 
brass registers send out uninterruptedly, by night as 
well as by day, their burning breath; and great stoves 
of monumental proportions, in handsome white or 
painted china, rising up to the ceiling spread-a steady 
warmth where registers cannot be installed. Open 
hearths are not frequent: they are used, where they do 


exist, in spring and autumn only; in winter they 


IgI 


bebbhbhbhtbeeddht ttt ttt ddd 
TRA VEDSAING RUSSIA 


would carry off the warmth and cool the room, so they 
are closed and the hearth is filled with lowers. Flowers 
are a genuine Russian luxury: the houses are full of 
them, — you find them at the door and all the way up 
the stairs; ivies climb upon the balustrade; on the 
Janding-places jardinieres are placed opposite seats; in 
the window recesses great banana-trees, with broad, 
silky leaves, Taliput palms, magnolias, and tree camellias 
mingle their bloom with the gilded volutes of the cor- 
nices. Orchids flutter in the air around dishes of crys- 
tal, porcelain, or curiously wrought terra cotta. From 
jasper or Bohemian glass vases placed in the centre 
of the tables or on the corners of sideboards spring 
sheaves of exotic flowers ; they live there as in a hot- 
house, and indeed every Russian house is a hothouse. 
Without, you are at the pole ; within, you could fancy 
yourself in the tropics. 

It seems to me that this profusion of verdure is due 
to the need of resting the eye from the implacable 
whiteness of winter; the desire to see something 
which is not white must be a sort of nostalgia in a 
country where snow covers the earth for more than 
six months of the year. One has not even the satis- 


faction of looking at the roofs painted green, for they 


1g2 


bebbbebttttetttettetdtttttttet 
RUSSTANAIN PERO R’S 


change their white covering only when spring comes. If 
the houses were not transformed into gardens it might be 
thought that green had forever disappeared from nature. 

As for the furniture, it is like our own, but larger and 
ampler, to accord with the greater size of the rooms. 
But what is thoroughly Russian is this frail nook of 
costly wood, cut out like the blades of a fan, —a sort 
of confessional for intimate talks —— managed in one 
corner of the drawing-room, festooned with the rarest 
climbing-plants, and provided within with divans on 
which the mistress of the house, avoiding the crowd 
of guests while still with them, can receive three or 
four distinguished guests. Sometimes the nook is 
made of coloured glass with figures drawn with hydro- 
fluoric acid, and set in panels of gilt copper. One 
occasionally sees also among the stools, arm-chairs, 
easy-chairs, lounges, féte-d-téte, a huge white bear 
stuffed and upholstered in the shape of a sofa, offering 
to visitors a truly Arctic seat; sometimes little black 
bear cubs serve as footstools. “These things recall, 
amid the elegance of modern life, the ice floes of the 
Polar Sea, the vast snow-covered steppes, and the deep 
forests of fir trees, —the true Russia, which one is apt 


to forget in St. Petersburg. 


VOL. I— 13 193 


b$ebbeeteeeetetetettdetetet 
TRAVELS EN“RUSSIA 


On the other hand the bedrooms are not generally 
as luxurious and richly furnished as in France. Be- 
hind a screen or one of those traceried partitions of 
which I was speaking just now, is placed a little 
bedstead like a camp bed or a divan. The Russians 
are of Eastern origin and even the upper classes 
do not care for comfortable beds; they sleep where 
they happen to be, almost anywhere, like the Turks; 
often in their pelisses, on the broad green leather 
sofas which are to be met with everywhere. The 
thought of making the bed-chamber a sort of sanctuary 
does not occur to them; the old habits of tent life 
seem to have followed them even in civilised life, 
with all the refinements and all the corruption of which 
they are quite familiar. 

Rich hangings cover the walls, and if the master 
of the house prides himself on being an amateur 
you may be sure that against the red Indian damask 
and brocatelle with dark gold designs, will stand out, 
lighted by strong reflectors and framed in the richest 
frames, paintings by Horace Vernet, Gudin, Calame, 
Koekkoek, sometimes by Leys, Madou, or Tenkate, 
or, if he desires to show his patriotism, by Brulov 


and Aivasovsky, these being the most fashionable 


194 


ekebeeeettettttbtottte test 
RUSSIANy I Ne RaR TORS 


painters. Our own modern school has not yet 
reached St. Petersburg; though I have come across 
two or three Meissoniers and about as many Troyons. 
The Russians think that our painters do not finish 
their pictures sufficiently. 

The house I have just described is not a palace, 
but the home of well-to-do people. St. Petersburg 
is full of mansions and vast palaces, into some of 
which I shall introduce my reader. 

Now that I have sketched the setting, it is time to 
go to dinner. Before sitting down to table the guests 
draw near a table on which are placed caviare, pickled 
fillets of herring, anchovies, cheese, olives, slices of 
sausage and of Hamburg smoked beef, and other 
hors-d’ceuvre, which are eaten with rolls to create 
an appetite; this luncheon is taken standing, and 
is washed down with vermouth, Madeira, Dantzig 
brandy, cognac, and cummin, a sort of anisette which 
recalls the raki of Constantinople and the Archi- 
pelago. _ Imprudent or shy travellers who do not 
know how to resist when they are politely pressed, 
taste everything, forgetting that this is but the pro- 
logue of the play, and they sit down satisfied to the 


real dinner. 


195 


bbb bh bb bbb bbb bbb bet 
TRAV ELS “TN? Rees oe 


In the houses of all well-bred people dinner is 
served in the French fashion, yet the national 
taste betrays itself in a few characteristic details. 
So along with white bread is served a slice of 
very dark rye bread, which the Russian guests eat 
with evident pleasure. ‘They also appear to prize 
greatly a sort of cucumber pickled in salt called 
ogourtzis, which at first did not strike me as_par- 
ticularly pleasant. When about half-way through the 
dinner, after the best wines of Bordeaux and cham- 
pagne have been served, — and these are to be found 
in Russia only, —porter and ale are drunk, and espe- 
cially fwass, a sort of local beer made of fermented 
crusts of black bread; one has to get accustomed 
to the taste of this drink, which does not. strike 
strangers as worthy of the splendid elegance of Bohe- 
mian glass or chased silver in which this brown, 
foaming liquor is served. Nevertheless, after a stay 
of a few months, one acquires a taste for ogourtzis, 
kwass, and chtchi, the national Russian soup. 

Chtchi is a sort of hodge-podge made of lamb’s 
breast, fennel, onions, carrots, cabbage, barley, and 
prunes. This heterogeneous combination of ingredi- 


ents has a peculiar savour which one quickly learns 


196 


KLAALALEALLASEAAAL ALLL KKK 
RUSSIAN - INTERIORS 


to like, especially when much travelling has made a 
man a cosmopolite in matters culinary and has pre- 
pared his digestion for every kind of shock. Another 
soup widely used is a soup with balls, a consommé 
in which:is thrown, when it is boiling, a paste mixed 
with eggs and spices; the heat shapes it into small 
round or oval balls, something like poached eggs in 
Parisian consomme. Little pastry balls are served 
with chtchi. 

Every one who has read “ Monte Cristo,’ remem- 
bers the meal in which the former prisoner of the 
Chateau d’[f, realising the marvels of fairy-land with 
his golden wand, has a Volga sturgeon served up,— 
the sterlet, or sturgeon, being a gastronomical phe- 
nomenon unknown on the most refined tables outside 
of Russia. ‘The sterlet deserves its reputation: it is 
an exquisite fish, with delicate white meat, some- 
what rich perhaps, with a flavour something between 
that of a lamprey and a smelt. It grows to a very 
large size, but the medium-sized fish are best. “Though 
I do not disdain good eating, I am neither Grimod de 
la Reyniére, nor Cussy, nor Brillat-Savarin; so I re- 
gret that I cannot speak of the sterlet enthusiastically 


enough, for it is a dish worthy of the most consummate 


197 


bette tbttettttttttttttet 
TRAVELISCOING RUSSIA 


gourmets. ‘I’o one who prizes good eating, the Volga 
sterlet is worth a trip to Russia. 

Grouse are ‘frequently served at Russian tables ; 
their flesh perfumed by the juniper berries on which 
they feed, gives out an odour of turpentine which 
startles one at first. “The great woodcock is also 
served, while fabulous bear’s-hams occasionally take 
the place of the classical York hams; and elk 
is substituted for ordinary roast beef. These are 
dishes not to be met with on any Occidental menu. 
Every nation, even when invaded by the uniformity 
of civilisation, preserves its peculiar tastes, and certain 
native dishes, the savour of which strangers appreciate 
but rarely. So the cold soup in which pieces of ice 
float amid pieces of fish in a broth at once perfumed, 
vinegary and sweet, startles exotic palates like an 
Andalusian gaspacho; this soup, however, is served in 
summer only; it is said to be very refreshing, and 
Russians are passionately fond of it. 

Vegetables are mostly grown in hothouses, so their 
maturity is not marked by seasons, and early vegetables 
cease to be early or are always so. New green peas 
are eaten at St. Petersburg every month of the year. 


Asparagus does not know what winter is: it is large, 


198 


KEELEALAEALESAALLALALLLALESS 
RUess I A NV UNECERLO'R'S 


tender, watery, and pure white; it is never seen with 
that green tip which it has with us, and may be eaten 
indifferently from either end. 

In England salmon cutlets are served; in Russia 
chicken cutlets. [hey came into fashion when Em- 
peror Nicholas tasted them at a little inn near Torjek, 
and thought them good; the recipe had been given to 
the hostess by an unfortunate Frenchman who had no 
other means of paying his bill, and who thus made 
the woman’s fortune. I approve the Emperor’s taste ; 
stuffed cutlets are indeed a dainty dish. I must also 
mention cutlets @ la Preobrajenski, which ought to 
figure on the menus of the best restaurants. 

I have noticed only the peculiarities and differences, 
for in great establishments the cookery is entirely 
French and done by French people: France furnishes 
the world with cooks. 

Fresh oysters are considered a great delicacy in 
St. Petersburg, as they are brought from a very great 
distance; the heat of summer spoils them, the cold of 
winter freezes them. ‘They cost sometimes as much 
as a rouble apiece, yet these costly bivalves are seldom 
good. ‘here is a story told of a moujik who had 


become very rich, who received his liberty, — for 


nog 


bbbetttetetetettbtttte tet 
TRAV EDSAENGRUS Saas 


which he had in vain offered fifty or a hundred thou- 
sand roubles, — in exchange for a barrel of fresh oysters 
given to his master at a time when they were not to 
be had. I do not guarantee the truth of the story, 
but even if it is made up it proves at least how rare 
oysters are in St. Petersburg at certain seasons. 

For precisely the same reason there is always a dish 
of fruit at dessert, oranges, pineapples, grapes, 
pears, apples, grouped in elegant pyramids. The 
grapes are usually brought from Portugal, but some- 
times their pale amber grains have ripened in the 
hothouses of the dwelling half buried under the snow. 
In January, I ate in St. Petersburg strawberries that 
were trying to look red on a green leaf in a miniature 
pot. Fruit is one of the great manias of Northern 
peoples: they import it at great cost, or force the 
rebellious nature of their climate to produce at least 
an outward seeming of fruits, but these lack taste and 
perfume; a stove, however well heated, never quite 
makes up for the sunshine. 

I hope I may be pardoned these gastronomical 
details, for there is a certain interest in knowing the 
way in which a nation feeds: the proverb, modified 


to read; “Tell me what you eat and I will tell you 


200 


bbbebbbbbbhbbbbbbbbbb heb 
RUSSIAN INTERIORS 


> 


who you are,” is just as true as in its original form. 
Though the Russians imitate French cookery they 
have kept their taste for certain national dishes, and 
after all, these are their favourites. It isthe same with 
their character: although they conform to the most 
recent refinements of western civilisation, they still 
preserve certain primitive instincts, and even the most 
highbred among them would not find it very difficult 
to go and live on the steppes. 

At table, a servant dressed in black, with white 
cravat and white gloves, as correct in his dress as an 
English diplomat, stands behind you, imperturbably 
serious, ready to satisfy your slightest wishes. You 
could easily believe yourself in Paris, but if you happen 
to look attentively at the man you will notice he has 
a golden yellow complexion, little black, wrinkled 
eyes turned up towards the temples, prominent cheek 
bones, a flat nose, and thick lips. The master of the 
house, who has caught your glance, says quietly, as if 
it were the most natural thing in the world, “ He is 
a Mongolian, a Tartar from the confines of China.” 

The Tartar, who is a Mahometan and perhaps an 
idolater, does his work with cheerful regularity, and 


the most scrupulous butler could find no fault with 


201 


thtkbtbetbbetebebheee tee 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


him. He looks like a real servant, but I should like 
him better if he wore the costume of his tribe, — 
a tunic fastened around his waist by a metal belt, 
and a lambskin cap. It would be more picturesque 
but less European, and Russians do not wish to look 
Asiatic. 

The whole table service —porcelains, crystals, silver- 
ware, centre-pieces — leaves nothing to be desired; but 
there is nothing characteristic about it, save occasion- 
ally pretty little spoons of platinum, inlaid with gold, 
used at dessert and with coffee and tea. Dishes of 
fruit and confections alternate with dishes of flowers ; 
sweets and pastry are often surrounded by violets — 
the hostess graciously distributes these bouquets to the 
guests. 

The conversation is always in French, especially if 
the guest is a stranger ; every well-bred Russian speaks 
our language very easily, with fashionable expressions 
and current slang just as if he had learned it on the 
Boulevard des Italiens. “They have no accent, but 
they can be known by a slight sing-song, which is not 
ungraceful and which you get to imitate. “Their man- 
ners are polished, caressing, and thoroughly urbane. 


It is surprising how well up they are in the least details 


202 


ALLAEEALALALLALLALALLELA LAL LLS 
RUSSIAN INTERIORS 


of our literature ; they read a great deal, and more than 
one author little known in France is well known in 
St. Petersburg. The gossip of the stage and the 
demi-monde travels to the banks of the Neva, and I 
learned a great many piquant Parisian matters which 
I was ignorant of. 

The women are also very well educated, thanks to 
the characteristic facility of Slavonic races: they read 
and speak several languages; many of them have read 
Byron, Goethe, and Heinrich Heine in the original; and 
if a writer is presented to them they manage to show 
him, by an apt quotation from his works, that they have 
read his books and know them. As for their dress, it 
is exceedingly elegant and fashionable. Crinolines are 
as widespread in St. Petersburg as in Paris, and allow 
of a display of superb stuffs. Quantities of diamonds 
sparkle upon very handsome shoulders, very much 
exposed; and it is only a few gold bracelets, from 
Circassia or the Caucasus, that show by their Oriental 
work that one is in Russia. 

After dinner the guests wander through the rooms. 
On the tables are albums, books of Beauty, keepsakes, 
landscapes, — which afford opportunities for conversa- 


tion to shy and timid people. Graphoscopes amuse 


203 


ShbbhbbLLLLeteteeLete dees 
TRAVELS IN R@SSTA 


with their pictures. Sometimes a lady rises, yielding 
to requests, sits down at the piano, and accompanies 
herself, as she sings, in a strange accent resembling a 
cachucha danced by moonlight on the snow, some 
national Russian air or gypsy song, in which the melan- 
choly of the North is mingled with the passion of the 
South. 


204 


che che che be obs abe che ob che abe tetra oboe oe abe abe abo ce abe oboe 


iy ES ENR OS SSTA 


PB dees Pu obWolN i ER: 
BAe A Cts 


AM going to tell you of an entertainment at 
| which I was present without being there: my 

body was absent though my eyes were invited, — 
a Court ball. I saw everything, being myself invisible, 
and yet I did not wear the ring of Gyges, nor a green 
felt kobold hat, nor any other talisman. 

On the Dvortsovaia Square, or Palace Square, car- 
peted with snow, stood numerous carriages in a tem- 
perature that would have frozen Parisian coachmen 
and horses, but which did not appear to the Russians 
severe enough to make it worth while to light the 
stoves placed under the kiosks, with tin Chinese roofs, 
near the Winter Palace. The trees of the Admiralty 
sparkling with frost, looked like great white plumes 
planted in the ground, and the rose granite of the 
column was glazed with a coat of ice like sugar frost- 


ing. The moon, rising pure and bright, poured its 


205 


keeeeeebeeetetettttetcteed 
RAW EMS INN. PRED Se 


dead light upon this nocturnal whiteness, casting blue 
shadows, and imparting a fantastic appearance to the 
motionless silhouettes of the equipages, the frost-covered 
lamps of which, like Arctic fire-flies, studded the vast 
extent with yellow dots. Every window of the gigantic 
Winter Palace was ablaze, making it look like a moun- 
tain pierced with holes, and lighted up by an internal 
conflagration. 

Deepest silence reigned over the Square. The 
severity of the weather prevented sight-seers, such as 
the spectacle of a similar entertainment, even seen 
from afar and from the outside, would certainly attract 
with us; but even if there had been a crowd, the 
approaches to the palace are so vast that it would 
have been scattered and lost in the enormous space 
which an army alone could fill. 

A sleigh traversed diagonally the great sheet of snow, 
on which fell the shadow of the Alexander Monument, 
and vanished down the dark street that separates the 
Winter Palace from the Hermitage,—a street which, 
thanks to its aerial bridge, somewhat resembles the 
Canal della Paglia in Venice. 

A few moments later an eye, which it is unnecessary 


to suppose joined to a body, was flying along the cornices 


206 


LEK ASL A AP HEeAAAALALE LSS 
A BAT? AT sTHE! WINGER, PALACK 


of the portico of one of the galleries of the palace. 
The gallery seen from this point extended to a great 
length; on its polished pillars and floor gleamed the 
reflections of the gildings and the tapers; paintings 
hung between the pillars, but the fore-shortening pre- 
vented the subjects being made out. Men in brilliant 
uniforms and ladies in rich court dress were all mov- 
ing about in it. Little by little the numbers increased, 
and the company, like a multi-coloured, glittering 
pomp, filled the gallery, which had become too narrow 
in spite of its large dimensions. 

Every glance was turned towards the door by which 
the Emperor was to enter. “The door opened; the Em- 
peror, the Empress, and the Grand Dukes walked down 
the gallery between the two rows of guests, addressing, 
with gracious and noble familiarity, a few words to the 
notabilities whom they met. Then the whole imperial 
group disappeared through a door opposite the one by 
which they had entered, followed at respectful distance 
by the great officers of state, the members of the diplo- 
matic body, military officers, and courtiers. 

The ball-room was like a furnace of heat and light, 
so blazingly brilliant that one might have thought it 


on fire. Lines of light ran along the cornices; in 


207 


BREELEACLL LESS LAL LALLA L SAS 
TRAV ELSY UND RWS Same 


the bays between the windows, chandeliers laden with 
tapers burned like burning bushes; hundreds of lustres 
hung from the ceiling, forming flaming constellations 
in a phosphorescent vapour. All these lights, the beams 
of which crossed and re-crossed, formed the most 
dazzling a/ giorno illumination which ever blazed sun- 
light upon an entertainment. 

Looking down upon this sight, the first impression, 
as one bent over the abyss of light, was vertiginous; 
at first it was impossible to make out anything through 
the vapour, the effulgence, the coruscation, the irradia- 
tion, the flame of the tapers, the sheen of the mirrors, 
the gleam of the gilding, the sparkling of diamonds 
and precious stones, the shimmering of stuffs. The 
ever-changing scintillations prevented any shape being 
distinctly noted. Then little by little the eye became 
used to the glare, embraced the whole extent of the 
hall, which is of gigantic dimensions, built of marble 
and white stucco, and the polished walls of which 
shone like jasper and porphyry in Martin’s engravings 
of Babylonian buildings, which faintly reflect luminosity 
and objects. 

A kaleidoscope in which coloured bits of glass 


constantly fall away and get together again, forming 


208 


SEELEALLALLALLALLELAL LLL LAS 
A BALL AT THE WINTER PALACE 


new designs ; a chromatrope, with its dilatations and 
contractions, in which a web becomes a flower, that 
turns its petals into the point of a diadem, and finally 
whirls around like the sun, changing from ruby to 
emerald, from topaz to amethyst, around a diamond 
centre, can alone, multiplied millions of times, give 
an idea of that moving maze of gold, gems, and 
flowers, the brilliant arabesques of which are con- 
stantly changing with the incessant motion of the 
people. When the imperial family entered, this 
mobile brilliancy quieted down, and it was then pos- 
sible to make out faces and figures, amid the stilled 
scintillation. 

In Russia Court balls are opened by what is called 
a polonaise. It is not a dance, but a sort of filing-past, 
of procession, of torchlight march, which is very strik- 
ing. [he company divides so as to leave a sort of 
lane in the centre of the ball-room. When every- 
body is placed the band plays an air of a slow, majestic 
rhythm, and the promenade begins. It is led by the 
Emperor with a princess or other lady whom he de- 
sires to honour. 

That evening Emperor Alexander II. wore a hand- 


some military uniform, which set off his tall, well- 


VOL. I— 14 209 


made, handsome figure. It consisted of a sort of 
white tunic coming half-way down the thigh, with 
gold frogs, and with blue Siberian fox trimming. 
He wore the stars of the great orders of knighthood; 
his legs were set off by close-fitting breeches and 
light boots. “The Emperor wears his hair cut close, 
so that his smooth, full, well-shaped brow was com- 
pletely seen. His absolutely regular features seem 
intended to be reproduced on a gold or bronze medal. 
His blue eyes acquire a peculiar beauty from the brown 
tints of his face, which is less fair than his brow, on 
account of his many trips and his taking much exercise 
in the open air. The outline of his mouth has a 
clearness and sharpness of line which is quite Greek 
and sculptural. “che expression of his face is majestic 
and sweet, lighted up at times by a very gracious smile. 

Next to the imperial family came the great officers 
of the army and of the household, each great dignitary ac- 
companying a lady. They wore uniforms covered with 
gold, epaulets studded with diamonds, endless stars of 
orders, and gems, which formed a blaze of light on 
their breasts. Some of them, more highly favoured 
and of higher rank, wore round the neck an order - 


which is a mark of friendship even more than of 


210 


Shtebbbeeebbbettttttteee 
A BALL AT THE WINTER PALACE 


honour, if that be possible, the Emperor’s picture 
set with brilliants ; but these were few in number. 
The procession keeps on walking and grows as it 
goes. A nobleman leaves the line, holds out his hand 
to the lady opposite him, forming a new couple that 
takes its place in the procession, regulating its steps and 
going more quickly or more slowly according to the 
pace set by the leader. It cannot be very easy for 
two people to walk thus, holding each other by the 
tips of the fingers, under the glance of many eyes 
that easily become ironical. “The least awkwardness 
in appearance, the slightest shuffling of the foot, the 
smallest break in the measure, are noticed. Military 
habits save many of the men, but how difficult it is 
for the women! Most of them, however, manage 
admirably well, and of more than one it could be 
said, Et vera incessu patuit dea. They go along 
with light step, covered with feathers, flowers, and 
diamonds, modestly casting their eyes down or letting 
their glances wander with an air of perfect innocence, 
manoeuvring their train of silk and lace with the least 
turn of the body or a touch of the heel, and cooling 
themselves with a slight flutter of the fan, as much 


at their ease as if walking ina solitary avenue of 


2EL 


ttet¢2t¢tr44 Pe Oe ee ee 
PRAV EESVING ROS Sie 


the park. ‘To walk in a noble, graceful, and simple 
manner while being looked at is an accomplishment 
which many a great actress has never attained. 

A characteristic of this Russian Court festival was 
that occasionally a princess was joined by some young, 
wasp-waisted, broad-chested Circassian prince in ele- 
gant and splendid Oriental costume,— by a chief of 
the Lesghians of the guard or a Mongolian officer 
whose soldiers are still armed with bows, quivers, and 
bucklers. Under the white glove of civilisation was 
concealed, as it held the hand of a princess or count- 
ess, a little Asiatic hand accustomed to handie the 
short 4imdja/ with its brown muscular fingers. No 
one seemed to be surprised at this, for it is quite 
natural — is it not ? — that a Mahometan or Mongolian 
prince should march with a great lady of St. Peters- 
burg, herself of the Orthodox-Greek church, for they 
are both of them subjects of the Emperor, the Czar 
of all the Russias. 

The uniforms and Court dresses of the men are 
so brilliant, so rich, so varied, so heavily covered with 
gold embroidery and orders, that the ladies, in spite 
of modern elegance and the graceful lightness of the 


present fashions, find it difficult to rival this massive 


212 


bettekebeeeeeedeetttteeee 
ABA AT ATELE WUONTER /PALACE 


brilliancy. As they cannot be more splendid, they 
are more beautiful; their bare shoulders and bosoms 
are better than all the gold embroideries in the world. 
To rival such splendour they would need to wear, like 
the Byzantine Madonnas, gowns of stamped gold and 
silver, pectorals, gems, and halos studded with dia- 
monds; but how could one dance with such a weight 
of gold-work on one’s body? | 

Yet it must not be supposed that the ladies carry 
simplicity to extremes; their plain dresses are of 
English point-lace, and the two or three skirts they 
wear are more costly than a dalmatic of gold or silver 
brocade. ‘The sprigs of flowers upon the tarlatan or 
gauze skirt are festooned with diamond clasps; the 
velvet ribbon is clasped by a gem that might have 
come from the Czar’s ‘crown. Certainly a white 
gown of taffeta, tulle, or watered silk, with a few rows 
of pearls and a head-dress to match, a knot of two or 
three pearls twisted in the hair, is utmost simplicity ; 
but the pearls are worth a hundred thousand roubles, 
and never will a diver bring up from the depths of 
ocean rounder or purer gems. Besides, simplicity of 
dress is a way of paying one’s court to the Empress, 


who prefers elegance to splendour. It is quite certain 


213 


deobcbdeck bbb bobbed cha cbch chabeeh 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


that Mammon does not lose by it; only at the first 
glance, and when passing by quickly it might be sup- 
posed that Russian women are less luxurious than the 
men, which is a mistake: like all women, they have an 
art of making gauze more expensive than gold. 

When the polonaise has traversed the gallery and 
the ball-room, the ball begins. There is nothing 
characteristic about the dances; there are quadrilles, 
waltzes, redowas, as in London, Madrid, Vienna, in 
fact, anywhere in society. I must, however, except the 
mazurka, which is danced in St. Petersburg with 
a degree of perfection and elegance unknown elsewhere. 
Local peculiarities tend to disappear everywhere, and 
they are first excluded by the upper classes; to find 
them one has to remove from the centre of civilisation 
and to go among the people. 

The prospect was enchanting; the figures of the 
dance showed symmetrically in the midst of the splen- 
did multitude, which drew aside to give room. In the 
whirl of the waltz the dresses ballooned like the skirts 
of Whirling Dervishes, and as the dancers spun around 
the diamond clasps, the gold and silver ornaments 
seemed to lengthen out in zigzag gleams like lightning. 


The little white-gloved hands placed upon the waltzers’ 


214 


keeeedbeteteeeetetttttees 
A BAER “ATs THE ‘WINTERS PALACE 


epaulets looked like white camellias in massive gold 
vases. 

Among the most noticeable of the guests was the 
First Secretary of the Austrian embassy, in his 
superb costume of a Hungarian magnate, and the 
Greek ambassador wearing a Palikar cap, braided vest, 
fustanella, and gaiters. 

After watching this for an hour or two, the eye 
transported itself into another hall by mysterious laby- 
rinthine passages, in which the distant strains of the 
band and of the dance died in faint murmurs. ‘This 
immense hall was comparatively dark; it was the 
supper room; many a cathedral is less vast. At the 
back, through the shadows, showed the white lines of 
tables; at the corners faintly gleamed great masses of 
plate, from which flashed sudden reflections, the source 
of which was untraceable; these were the sideboards. 
A velvet-covered dais was next a horseshoe table. Foot- 
men in full livery, stewards, officers of the household, 
were giving the final touches, going and coming with 
silent activity. A few lights glittered against the dark 
background like sparks on burnt paper. Innumerable 
tapers were placed in candelabra, ran along the friezes, 


and round the arches; they rose white from their 


215 


thtteetttttttetttdttetette 
TRAW ELSWINGR USS Ta 


rich holders like pistils rising from the calyxes of 
flowers, but not the least luminous star quivered upon 
them; they looked like frozen stalactites; and one 
could even hear a sound as of overflowing waters — 
the low murmur of the approaching multitude. The 
Emperor appeared on the threshold, and the light 
suddenly was! Swift as lightning, a subtle flame ran 
from taper to taper; everything blazed at once and 
torrents of light abruptly filled the vast hall, illumined 
as if by magic. ‘This sudden change from semi-dark- 
ness to the most dazzling brilliancy was absolutely 
fairylike. In our prosaic age every prodigy has to be 
explained ; threads of fulminated cotton connected all 
the wicks of the tapers, which were themselves steeped 
in an inflammable essence; fire being applied in 
seven or eight places, it instantly ran along the whole 
line. ‘Ihe same method is employed to light up the 
great chandeliers of St. Isaac’s. A similar effect would 
be produced by using gas, turning it down and suddenly 
turning it on full; but Iam not aware that gas has 
been introduced into the Winter Palace, — pure wax 
tapers only are used there. It is in Russia only that 
bees still furnish illumination. : 


The Empress took her place, with some very dis- 


216 


LELLALALALALALLAALLELELES LES 
A BALL AT THE WINTER PALACE 


tinguished personages, on the dais where was set the 
horseshoe table ; behind her gilded arm-chair bloomed 
like gigantic fireworks a huge sheaf of white and rose 
camellias trained against the marble wall. Twelve 
tall negroes, selected from among the finest specimens 
of the African race, dressed in Mameluke costumes, 
with white twisted turbans, green jackets braided with 
gold, full red trousers, with cashmere sashes, the whole 
braided and embroidered down every seam, went up 
and down the steps of the dais, handing the dishes to 
the footmen or taking them from them, with the grace 
and dignity peculiar to the people of the East, even 
when discharging some servile duty. “These Orientals, 
having forgiven Desdemona, were majestically fulfilling 
their part, and gave to the purely European entertain- 
ment an Asiatic touch in the best of taste. 

No seats being assigned, the guests seated them- 
selves where they chose, at the tables prepared for 
them. Rich centre-pieces of silver and gold, represent- 
ing groups of figures, flowers, mythological subjects, or 
fanciful decorations, adorned the centre of each; can- 
delabra alternated with pyramids of fruits and confec- 
tions. Seen from above, the dazzling symmetry of the 


crystals, the porcelains, the silverware, and the bouquets, 


217 


SLLLL LLL A LEEL eee bh 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


was better grasped than from below. A double row of 
women’s bosoms, edged with lace and sparkling with 
diamonds, ran along the tables. 

The Emperor walked around, speaking to those 
whom he desired to honour, sitting down occasionally 
and putting a glass of champagne to his lips, then going 
to repeat the same politeness farther on. ‘These stops 
of a few minutes are considered a very great favour. 

After supper dancing was resumed, but the night 
was waning apace; it was time to leave; there could 
only be a mere repetition of what I had seen before. 
The sleigh which had traversed the square, to stop at 
a little door in the street which separates the Winter 
Palace from the Hermitage, reappeared going towards 
the church of St. Isaac, carrying off a pelisse and a 
fur cap under which no face could be seen. As if 
the heavens sought to rival the splendours of earth, 
the Aurora Borealis was flashing its silver, gold, purple, 
and pearl fires, and extinguishing the stars with its 


phosphorescent beams. 


218 


dob b a bbb abba babe bth 
TRAE LS, -LNGEROSSLA 


THE THEATRE 


HE theatres in St. Petersburg have a monu- 
mental and classic look ; the style of the ar- 
chitecture generally recalls that of the Odéon 

at Paris, and the theatre at Bordeaux. Standing alone 
in the centre of vast squares, ingress and egress are 
equally easy. For my own part I should prefer a 
more original style, and it seems to me that it would 
have been possible to create one out of the forms suited 
to the country, from which novel effects could have 
been obtained; but this reproach is not confined to 
Russia: an unintelligent admiration of antiquity has 
peopled every capital city with Parthenons and Mai- 
sons Carrées, copied more or less exactly, with the 
assistance of stone, brick, and plaster; but nowhere 
do these poor Greek orders look more unhappy and 
more out of place than in St. Petersburg. Accustomed 
to azure sunshine they shiver under the snow which 
covers their flat roofs during the long winter. It is 


true that these roofs are carefully cleared after every 


219 


febbbttbttbbrtetettttetdettst 
TRAVELS AN Risse 


snow-fall, a fact which is the strongest condemnation 
of the style chosen. Imagine ice stalactites on acan- 
thus leaves, and Corinthian capitals! At the present 
moment there is a Romanticist reaction in favour of 
the Russo-Byzantine architecture, and I hope it may 
succeed. Every country, when it is not forced to err 
in the name of pretended good taste, produces its own 
monuments, exactly as it produces its own men, 
animals, and plants, in accordance with the necessity 
of the climate, religion, and origin. What Russia needs 
is the Greek style of Byzantium, and not the Greek 
style of Athens. 

With this reservation I can only praise the theatres. 
The Grand Theatre or Italian Opera is magnificent, 
and of colossal size, rivalling la Scala and San Carlo. 
The carriages, which stand upon a vast square, can 
approach without confusion or disorder. “Iwo or 
three vestibules with glass doors prevent the cold outer 
air from penetrating into the auditorium, and make a 
transition between a temperature of five to ten above 
zero outside, to sixty-eight or seventy inside. Old 
soldiers in veterans’ uniforms, take the pelisses, furs, 
and galoshes of the spectators at the entrance, and 


return them without ever making a mistake; this 


220 


che obs oe abe oh ah obo abe che ce che cbe ce abe abo abe bebe bocce ale oe fe 
THE THEATRE 


particular memory for furs strikes me as a Russian 
specialty. Just as at Her Majesty’s Theatre in Lon- 
don, men attend the Italian Opera at St. Petersburg 
only in full dress, unless they wear the uniform of 
some rank or office, which is more general. The 
ladies are in evening dress, bare-headed, low-necked, 
and with short sleeves; this etiquette of dress, which I 
approve of, contributes greatly to the brilliancy of the 
spectacie. 

The parterre is divided in the centre by a broad 
passage way, and is surrounded by a semicircular 
corridor, lined on one side by a row of boxes, so that 
between the acts one can go and chat with acquaint- 
ances who happen to be in the boxes. “This commo- 
dious arrangement, found in all the principal theatres 
of capital cities except in Paris, should be imitated 
there when the Opera is finally rebuilt. It is easy to 
leave and to regain one’s place without disturbing 
any one. 

The first thing that strikes one on entering, is the 
Imperial box, which is not placed as with us between 
the proscenium pillars, but in the centre, opposite the 
actors; it rises to the second row of boxes. Huge 


gilded staffs, heavily carved, support velvet curtains 


oe a B 


TRAVELS IN RUSS Tz 


drawn back with golden cords and tassels, and up- 
bear a gigantic Russian coat of arms most proudly 
and fantastically heraldic. The double-headed eagle 
with its double crown, wings displayed, fan-shaped 
tail, the feathers of which are somewhat like fleurons, 
grasping in its talons the orb and sceptre, with the 
escutcheon of St. George in pretence, and on its 
escalloped breast the arms of kingdoms, duchies, and 
provinces, like the collar of an order of knighthood, 
— forms a very fine motive of ornamentation. No 
Greco-Pompeian decoration could produce so satisfac- 
tory an effect or be so suitable. 

The curtain does not represent a velvet curtain with 
broad folds and deep gold embroidery, but a view of 
Petershoff, with its arcades, porticoes, statues, and 
roofs painted green in Russian fashion. The balus- 
trades of the boxes, regularly superimposed in the 
Italian fashion, are ornamented with white medallions 
in rich gold frames, containing figures and attributes in 
a light and tender tone, standing out against the rose- 
coloured background with a pastel-like effect. “There 
are no balconies or galleries. [he proscenium, instead 
of being flanked with pillars, is isolated by tall, carved 
and gilded staffs not unlike the poles intended to sup- 


222 


= 
a0 


FE; THEATRE 


port Oriental tents,—a novel and graceful arrange- 
ment. 

It is not easy to define the style of the architecture 
of the auditorium unless I borrow from the Spaniards 
the name p/ateresco, which means the goldsmith style, 
and indicates a sort of architecture in which ornament 
displayed itself in numberless exuberant caprices, with 
an aristocratic richness that knows neither curb nor 
rule. It is full of rockery-work, nuts, foliage, fleurons, 
and innumerable gilded points which reflect the bril- 
liancy of the lustres. The general effect is proud, 
splendid and happy. ‘The luxurious auditorium is a 
worthy frame for the luxurious display made by the 
spectators. I prefer this ornamental folly in a 
theatre to dully correct architecture. In such cases 
slight extravagance is preferable to pedantry. What 
more can be desired than velvet, gold, and the like in 
profusion ? 

The first row of boxes above the floor is called 
the swell row, and although there is no formal rule 
to that effect, the swell row is reserved for the upper 
aristocracy and the great dignitaries of the Court. 
No untitled woman, however rich and respectable, 


would dare to sit there; her presence in that priv- 


22.3 


teteetedeeeetetetbttttttes 
TRAViELSTIUN RWS Te 


ileged line would astonish everybody and herself most 
of all. Here money does not efface every line of 
demarcation. 

The first rows of the orchestra stalls are, by custom, 
reserved for persons of distinction. “The row next to 
the musicians is occupied by great officers of the crown, 
ambassadors, first secretaries of embassies, and other 
important and influential personages; a stranger who 
is famous for some reason or other may sit there. The 
next two rows are also exceedingly aristocratic. In 
the fourth row bankers, strangers, functionaries, and 
artists begin to show, but a merchant would not dare 
to venture beyond the fifth or sixth row. It is a sort 
of tacit convention or agreement, which nobody in- 
vokes, but which everybody obeys. 

This familiar custom of sitting in the orchestra stalls 
surprised me at first when I saw it followed by people 
of such high rank, including the first personages of the 
Empire. ‘Though the possession of a stall does not 
preclude one having a box for the family, the stall is 
the preferred place, and that habit has, no doubt, given 
rise to the reservation which drives back the ordinary 
public to the rows farther behind. This distinction 


shocks no one in Russia, where society is divided into 


224 


ttetebetdettetetetttttttb test 
7 TUE PH EARLE 


fourteen very distinct categories, the first of which often 
contains but two or three persons. 

At the Italian Opera in St. Petersburg the opera and 
the ballet are not given on the same evening ; they form 
perfectly distinct performances, and are given on separate 
days. The subscription to the ballet is less than that 
to the opera. As the dance alone forms the spectacle, 
the ballets are longer than with us. “They comprise four 
and even five acts, with many tableaux and changes of 
scenery, or else two are given on the same evening. 

The stars of song and dance have all appeared at the 
Grand Theatre. Every one has shone in its turn in 
this polar sky, without losing any of its brilliancy ; by 
dint of roubles and warmth of welcome, the chimerical 
fear of loss of voice and rheumatism has been overcome: 
neither throats nor legs have suffered in that country 
of snows, where the cold is seen without being felt. 
Rubini, Tamburini, Lablache, Mario, Grisi, Taglioni, 
Elssler, and Carlotta have in turn been admired and 
understood there, — indeed, Rubini was knighted. Im- 
perial approval stimulates the artists and proves to them 
that they are delicately appreciated, although it is often 
somewhat late in life that they make up their minds to 


undertake the trip. 


VOL, I— 15 225 


dedecbcbe oh ch deck dob tectecle obec ecb deeded ae beck 
TRAY EAS MON: eRIGYS Sie 


It is not an easy matter for a dancer to win applause 
in St. Petersburg; the Russians are experts in such 
matters, and the scrutiny of their opera glasses is 
dreaded. Any one who has triumphantly passed this 
test may feel entirely safe.. ‘heir Conservatory of 
dancing turns out remarkable pupils, and a corps de ballet 
unequalled for the ensemble, precision, and rapidity of 
its evolutions. It is delightful to watch those lines so 
straight, those groups so well formed, that break up 
only at the exact moment, to immediately re-form 
under another aspect; all those little feet which strike 
the ground in time, all those choregraphic battalions 
which are never disconcerted and never get tangled 
up in their manoeuvres. At St. Petersburg there is 
no talking, no sneering, no glances cast at the stage- 
boxes or the orchestra stalls; it is actually a world of 
pantomime whence speech is absent, and the action 
does not overflow the frame. ‘The corps de ballet is 
carefully chosen among the pupils trained in the Con- 
servatory. Many are pretty, all are young and 
shapely, and know their business, or art, if you prefer 
it, thoroughly. 

The scenery, very rich, very varied, very carefully 


painted, is the work of German painters. “The compo- 


226 


dedbe debe ak oh ch ck ch dbecdecdededeb hecho cbabob abel 
THE THEATRE 


sition is often ingenious, poetic, and learned, but occa- 
sionally overladen with needless details which draw 
the eye, and spoil the effect. The colouring is usually 
pale and cold; the Germans, as every one knows, are 
not colourists, and one feels this lack when coming 
from Paris, where the magic of scene-painting is carried 
to such a high point. As for the theatre itself, it is 
admirably equipped, the flies, the traps, the machinery 
for transformations, the electric light effects, and all 
those involved in complicated scene-setting, are carried 
out with the most accurate promptness. 

The aspect of the auditorium, as I have said, is 
exceeding brilliant. “The toilets of the ladies stand 
out beautifully from the purple-velvet background of 
the boxes. To the stranger the entr’actes are no less 
interesting than the performance itself; one may with- 
out impropriety turn one’s back to the stage and for a 
few moments gaze through one’s glasses at the varied 
and novel feminine types. An obliging neighbour, 
thoroughly acquainted with the aristocracy, will give 
the correct titles of Princess, Countess, or Baroness to 
the fair or dark faces, which unite the reverie of the 
North with Oriental placidity, just as they mingle 


flowers with diamonds. 


227 


tebbbhebbbeeebbbbbbbd bbe 


TRAVELS: DN RUSSTe 
The Théatre-Frangais, also called the Michael 


Theatre, is situated on Michael Square. The interior 
is conveniently arranged, but rather meanly decorated. 
As at the Grand Theatre, the first rows of the orches- 
tra stalls are occupied by Russians and foreigners of 
distinction. It is much frequented, and the make-up 
of the company leaves nothing to be desired. The 
actors strive to obtain novelties for their own benefits, 
which generally take place on Saturday or Sunday, and 
which settle the programme for the week. Many a 
play is performed for the first time in St. Petersburg 


almost simultaneously with its production in Paris. 


228 


bebbbtteeettdebbbttteeese 


TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


whe ob ole of ole als able cbr obs oll obs ened obs obs ole ele abe obo of als ole ebooks 


CS CFS TES VES FO CTS PHO OHS UES GIO VFS CTO CVO OTA WFO WFO OTe Vie VIS Gre ose ete 


Tobe ie Ct ©) Cele Ly VCR 


VERY city has a mysterious receptacle far 
from the centre, which one may easily miss 
seeing, even during a long stay, if one’s habit 

is to wander through the same network of aristocratic 
streets; it is the city’s ossuary, to which drift, filthy, 
dirty, and unrecognizable, all the débris of luxury, still 
good enough for purchasers at fifth or sixth hand. 
Thither find their way the dainty bonnets, delicate 
masterpieces of fashionable milliners, now deformed, 
faded, greasy, fit to be worn by learned asses; the 
fine, black-cloth dress-coats, formerly covered with 
orders of knighthood, which had the honour of figuring 
at splendid balls; the evening dresses given away some 
morning to a maid, the yellowed blondes, damaged 
laces, worn-out furs, old-fashioned furniture, — the 
humus and stratum of civilisation. Paris has its Temple, 
Madrid its Rastro, Constantinople its Lice Bazaar, and 
St. Petersburg, its Stchoukine Dvor,—a most ragged 


quarter well worth visiting. 


229 


abe che abe ole ole obs obs obs alhe obs obs abe cle che obs obs obs chy ob oby obs ofr 


owe are <e we Fe ete CTS CTS OTe 


TRAVELS) TN: Risse 


Drive up the Nevsky Prospect in your sleigh, past 
the Gostiny Dvor, a sort of Palais-Royal, with gal- 
leries bordered by elegant shops; having reached this 
point say, “Na leva” to your izvochtchik, and having 
traversed three or four streets you will have reached 
your destination. 

Enter, if your olfactory nerves are not too sensitive, 
by the shoe and leather bazaar; the strong odour of 
leather, mingling with the smell of sour cabbage, forms 
a thoroughly local perfume, which strangers notice 
much more than the Russians, and which it is very 
dificult to get used to. But if one wishes to see 
everything one must not be too particular. 

The shops in the Stchoukine Dvor are built of 
boards; they are filthy hovels, the musty tones of 
which showed dirtier than usual by contrast with the 
immaculateness of the snow that silvered the roofs. 
Hanging in the open air, and set off by a few touches 
of snow, strings of greasy old leather boots, — and 
such boots ! —- stiffened skins recalling by their sinister, 
exaggerated silhouette the form of the animals from 
which they had been stripped; filthy, ragged tulupes 
still preserving a faint human shape, formed the 


composite decoration of the stalls and looked wretch- 


Baie 


1 


cheb oe abe abe he oe oh he cde cdecleecbecbe cde cole cl ch check 
TERE 7ST GH.O|W KENGE, DiVOR 


edly lugubrious under the lowering, yellowish-gray sky. 
The dealers themselves were not much cleaner than 
their goods. 

A great number of streets divide the wooden shops 
of the Stchoukine Dvor; each quarter is devoted to a 
particular trade. At the corners of the squares stand 
small chapels, in the interior of which silver and silver- 
gilt plates of miniature Ikonostases gleam in the light 
of lamps; anywhere else in the Stchoukine Dvor it is 
forbidden to have lights, for a single spark would set 
fire to that medley of old boards and old rags; the 
danger is risked only for the greater glory of the 
images. [hese masses of plate have a luminosity of 
their own in this dark and wretched quarter. Buyers 
and sellers as they pass before the chapels make innu- 
merable signs of the cross after the Greek mode; 
some, either more fervent or less in a hurry, prostrate 
themselves in the snow to murmur a prayer, and as 
they rise drop a kopeck in the alms-box placed by the 
door. 

One of the most curious streets of the Stchoukine 
Dvor is that of the makers of ikons. If we did not 
know the year it would be easy to fancy one’s self in 


the Middle Ages, so archaic in style are these paintings, 


231 


$eteetebtttettetttttteets 
RA V E’L'S® TAN? CREGES'S Pa 


which however are of the most recent production ; 
Russia observes the Byzantine tradition with absolute 
fidelity in the painting of images. The illuminators 
seem to have served their apprenticeship on Mount 
Athos, at the convent of Agia Lavra, and to have 
studied the precepts of the manual training collected by 
the monk Pansélenos, the Raphael of that very special 
art which looks upon the too accurate imitation of 
nature as a form of idolatry. 

The shops are covered with images from top to 
bottom: there are Madonnas, showing, through stamped 
out parts of the gold or silver plate, their brown heads, 
copied from the portrait of the Virgin painted by St. 
Luke; Christs and saints, appreciated by devotees in 
proportion as they are more primitively barbaric; paint- 
ings of scenes from the Old and New Testaments, 
with innumerable figures’ with stiff, symmetrical ges- 
tures, purposely dark in colour and covered with yellow 
varnish like Persian sheaths and mirror frames, in order 
to imitate the grime of ages; bronze plates hinged 
like the leaves of a screen or the shutters of a triptych, 
framing in a series of pious bassi relievi; crosses in 
oxidized silver, in charming Greco-Byzantine pat- 


terns, in which a whole world of microscopic figures, 


232 


Lebebebbtebebebbtbtbttte 
THE STCHOUKINE DVOR 


swarming between inscriptions in old Slavic char- 
acters, perform the sacred drama of Golgotha; illumi- 
nated book-covers, and innumerable other articles of 
devotion. 

Some of these images, finished with greater care, 
and more richly gilded or plated, fetch pretty high 
prices. It is useless to look for artistic merit in any 
of them, though all, even the coarsest, have amazing 
style. The barbaric forms, the crude colours, the 
mingling of goldsmith work and painting, give them 
a hieratic and solemn appearance, better fitted perhaps 
to stimulate piety than more skilful representations. 
These images are exactly like those which former 
generations revered; unchangeable as dogma they have 
been perpetuated from age to age. Art has no hold 
upon them, and in spite of their barbarousness and 
artlessness, it would be considered sacrilegious to im- 
prove upon them: the blacker, the smokier, the stiffer 
the Madonna, the greater the trust it inspires in the 
worshipper, whom it gazes upon with its dark eyes 
fixed like eternity. 

It ought to be said that the shops of the Stchoukine 
Dvor, in which these images are made, are analogous 


to the manufacturers of Epinal wood-engravings with 


433 


us; the old style has taken refuge there with popular 
routine. At St. Isaac’s and in other modern churches 
and chapels the artists, while they have preserved the 
general aspect and consecrated attitude, have not hesi- 
tated to give to their Madonnas the fullest ideal beauty 
of which they were capable. “They have also done 
away with the brown complexion of the fierce bearded 
saints, and substitute human colours. From the 
point of view of science this is no doubt better, 
but it is possible that the religious effect has also been 
diminished. ‘The Russo-Byzantine style with its gold 
backgrounds, symmetrical forms, and overlaying of 
metals and stones, lends itself admirably to church 
decoration; it is a mysterious and supernatural art 
quite in harmony with its destination. 

The dealers in images are neater in their dress than 
their neighbours the leather-sellers; they generally 
wear the old Russian costume, a blue or green cloth 
caftan, closed with a button near the shoulder, and 
drawn in at the waist by a narrow belt; heavy, black 
leather boots; the hair parted in the centre, flowing 
long on either side of the face, but cut short at the 
back to show the neck, and thick blond or hazel- 


brown curly beards. Many have handsome, serious, 


234 


choke ob a os ob oh ok oh oh chabche beh ch cheb ab check ok 


we He 


Eek aie URINE DVOR 


tt 


oe 


intelligent, sweet faces, and might pass for the Christs 
that they sell, if Byzantine art allowed the imita- 
tion of nature in devotional paintings. When they 
see you stopping before their stall they politely in- 
vite you to enter, and, even if you purchase a 
few trifles only they will show you everything in 
their shop, and, not without a certain pride, draw 
your special attention to the richest and best-wrought 
articles. 

Most interesting indeed to a stranger are these 
thoroughly Russian shops; he can easily be taken in 
by purchasing as an antique an absolutely modern 
article; in Russia, however, antiquity is no older than 
yesterday, and when it is a question of religious 
representation, the same forms are invariably repeated. 
What connoisseurs even might mistake for the work 
of a Greek monk of the ninth or tenth century, 
often comes from the studio next door, the gold varnish 
being scarcely dry. 

It is entertaining to note the naive and pious admira- 
tion of the moujiks who pass through the street, which 
might be called the sacred street of the Stchoukine 
Dvor. In spite of the cold they remain in ecstasies 


before the Madonnas and saints, and dream of owning 


moe) 


tetbbbebttbtetbbbttddtttde 
TVA Vi Ev'S UN PERSE SS Bee 


a painting like that, to hang in the light of a lamp in 
a corner of their log-cabins; but they finally depart 
considering the purchase beyond their means. Some 
however, who are better off, enter after having felt 
the small bundle of paper roubles in their purse to 
see whether it is thick enough; and then emerge 
after much bargaining, carrying their purchase care- 
fully wrapped up. Accounts are kept in Chinese 
fashion, with an abacus. 

But everybody does not go to the Stchoukine Dvor 
to buy. Many go to saunter there, and a very varied 
crowd throngs the streets; moujiks in tulupes, soldiers 
in gray overcoats, elbow society men in pelisses, and 
antiquarians looking for fine incunables, which are 
becoming rarer and rarer; for simplicity has abandoned 
the bazaar, and for fear of making a mistake dealers 
ask extravagant prices for the least trifle; regret at 
having formerly sold fairly cheap some rare object 
the value of which they were ignorant of, has made 
them uncommonly suspicious. 

Almost everything is to be found in this lumber 
place: old books have their particular quarter, French, 
English, German books, books from every country 


in the world are stranded there on the snow, among 


236 


HLELE ALL AL LAAALALALLL ALLEL 
Viens Ss NOHO U Run pDV O'R 


pdd Russian volumes, soiled, stained, worm-eaten. 
Amid much trash investigators occasionally come upon 
an incunable, a princeps edition, a volume out of print, 
which has reached the Stchoukine Dvor after a series 
of adventures that might form the subject of a mimic 
Odyssey. Some of the dealers cannot read, but they 
are nevertheless very well acquainted with their books. 

There are also shops for the sale of engravings and 
plain or coloured lithographs, in which are frequently 
to be found portraits of Alexander I, Emperor Nicholas,” 
Grand Dukes and Grand Duchesses, great dignitaries 
and generals of preceding reigns, drawn by hands more 
zealous than skilful, and which give a very curious 
notion of the august personages. Of course “ The 
Four Parts of the World,” ‘ The Four Seasons,” 
“© The Proposal of Marriage,” “The Wedding,” “The 
Retiring of the Bride,’ “The Rising of the Bride,” 
and the hideous daubs of our Rue Saint-Jacques are 
met with in great numbers. 

Among the idlers and purchasers women are in the 
minority. With us it would be the opposite. Russian 
women, although nothing compels them to do so, ap- 
pear to have preserved the Eastern habit of seclusion ; 


they go out but little,— scarcely does one see here and 


237 


soe abe ohe abe oo cde che a tector cece cts cfe abe oe cece abe ole 


we Ore ate ete ore 


Eth Vinits IN RASS EA 


there a female moujik with her handkerchief knotted 
under her chin, her felt or cloth wrap put on like a 
man’s overcoat, over thick skirts, and heavy boots of 
greasy leather, trampling through the snow, in which 
she leaves prints that it is dificult to suppose made 
by a member of the fair sex. The other women. 
who stop at the stalls are Germans or foreigners. 
In the shops of the Stchoukine Dvor, as in the 
bazaar at Smyrna or Constantinople, it is men who 
sell; I do not recollect having seen a single Russian 
saleswoman. 

The street of second-hand furniture would furnish 
matter for a course on domestic economy, and much 
information upon private Russian life to a man who 
could make out from the more or less well-preserved 
remnants the histories of their former owners. Every 
style is represented there; by-gone fashions form reg- 
ular stratifications; every epoch has superimposed in 
regular layers its forms that have become ridiculous. 
The great sofas of green leather, genuine Russian fur- 
niture, are most often met with. In another quarter 
are trunks, valises, karzines, and other travelling articles, 
piled up half-way out into the street, and almost buried 


under the snow ; then old pans, old iron, broken jugs, 


238 


che cko che aheok ohe che che he abe abe tocde he cde le abe cde ecb ce ob oes 


Te CFO oFe UTE OTe OVE VTS we 


mae So LCEOUKINE. DVOR 


i> 


cracked wooden platters, worn-out utensils ; in a word, 
things that are nameless in every tongue, rags about to 
be transformed into lint, and falling under the jurisdic- 
tion of the rag-man alone. 

I have described the picturesque side of the Stchoukine 
Dyor, as it is the most interesting. There are also 
covered galleries bordered by shops containing goods of 
all kinds: smoked soudras for the long Greek Lent, 
olives, white butter like that of Constantinople, which 
comes from Odessa, green apples, red berries which are 
made into tarts, new furniture, clothing, shoes, stoves, 
and jewelry for the common people. ‘That is still in- 
teresting, but it is not singular like the Oriental bazaar 


scattered amid the snow. 


4359 


ALAEALL DLL LLASALALLLAL LALA LL 


TRAVELS IN. RUSSIA 


Si Lele ees 


HEN the traveller who has proceeded up the 

\) \) Gulf of Finland, nears St. Petersburg, the 

first object upon which his glance rests is 
the dome of St. Isaac’s, placed upon the skyline of the 
city like a golden mitre. If the sky is clear and the 
sunlight strikes the dome, the effect is magnificent. 
The first impression is the correct one, the one to be 
remembered. ‘The church of St. Isaac’s shines in the 
very first rank among the religious edifices which adorn 
the capital of all the Russias. Of modern construction 
and recently inaugurated, it may be considered a super- 
human effort of contemporary architecture. Seldom 
has so short a time elapsed between the laying of the 
foundation stone and that of the coping stone. 

An all-powerful will which nothing could resist, not 
even material obstacles, and which did not hesitate at 
any sacrifice, is mainly responsible for this miracle of 
celerity. Begun in 1819 under Alexander I, continued 


steadily under Nicholas, and completed under Alexander 


240 


LELLLAEL LAE ALAA Lette tsts 
S$ Toes A AGES 


II, in 1855, St. Isaac’s is a complete temple finished 
internally and externally, of absolute unity of style, 
bearing its fixed date and its author’s name. It is not, 
like many cathedrals, the slow product of time, a crys- 
tallisation of centuries in which each epoch has, as it 
were, secreted its own stalactite, and which too often 
the sap of faith, stopped or slowed in its course, has 
been unable to traverse to the end. The symbolical 
crane, that surmounts unfinished churches, such as the 
cathedrals of Cologne and Seville, never figured upon 
St. Isaac’s: uninterrupted labour has brought it in less 
than forty years to the point of perfection visible to-day. 

The aspect of the church recalls St. Peter’s in Rome, 
the Pantheon of Agrippa, St. Paul’s in London, St. 
Geneviéve’s in Paris, and the Dome of the Invalides. 
As the architect, Ricard de Montferrand, had to erect a 
church with a cupola, he was bound to study that kind 
of buildings, and to profit, while maintaining his own 
originality, by the experience of his forerunners ; he 
chose for his dome the most elegant curve, the one 
which at the same time offers the greatest resistance ; 
he crowned it with a diadem of pillars and placed it 
between four belfries,— borrowing some beauty from 


each different style. 


VOL. 1— 16 241 


—_— 


- 
. 
» 

i 

ib 

sb 
ib 

i 

ib 
re 
sb 


nhs abe by ob che ole abs abe obs abe abe els ceo ob abe ofl abe 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


Considering the regular simplicity of the plan, which 
the eye and the mind grasp without difficulty, it could 
scarcely be suspected that St. Isaac’s, though apparently 
so homogeneous, contains fragments of an older church, 
which had to be preserved and utilised. It was dedi- 
cated to the same patron saint, and it was made histor- 
ically venerable by the names of Peter the Great, 
Catherine II, and Paul I, who had all contributed more 
or less to its splendour, though none of them had been 
able to complete it. The plan of St. Isaac the Dalma- 
tian, a saint of the Greek liturgy who has no relation 
with the patriarch of the Old Testament, is in the 
form of a cross, the four branches of which are of 
equal length,— differing in this respect from the Latin 
cross, the lower branch of which is longer. As it was 
necessary to orientate the church towards the East, and 
to preserve the Ikonostas which had already been con- 
secrated, as well as to place the principal portico, which 
is exactly repeated on the other facade, opposite the 
Neva and the statue of Peter the Great, it was impos- 
sible to put the main entrance opposite the sanctuary. 
The two entrances, which correspond to the two mon- 
umental porticoes, are jateral as regards the Ikonostas ; 


opposite each opens a door leading into a small octo- 


242 


BeEpeALAL EASA AAL LL ALL ELSE 
Sol SE > APAIGsS 


style portico, with one row of pillars, symmetrically 
reproduced at the other end. The Greek ritual requires 
this arrangement, which the architect had to accept and 
harmonise with the aspect of the building, the side 
facade of which could not be placed opposite the river, 
from which it is separated by a broad square ; hence 
the arms of the gilded crosses that surmount the dome 
and the belfries are not parallel to the facades, but to 
the Ikonostas; so that the church is orientated in two 
different ways — the one ecclesiastical, the other arch- 
itectural. But this discord, unavoidable under the 
conditions, is concealed with such skill that it takes 
much attention and a careful examination to note it; 
internally it is impossible to suspect it; it was only 
assiduous study of the church that enabled me to 
mark it. 
From the corner of the Boulevard of the Admiralty, 
St. Isaac’s appears in all its magnificence, and the whole 
building may be viewed from this point; the principal 
facade shows in its entirety, as well as one of the side 
porticoes; three of the four belfries are visible, and the 
dome stands out against the heavens with its _pillared 
gallery, its golden cap, and its bold lantern topped by 


the symbol of salvation. 


243 


ttetbbettbttrtttbbbt td dd dt 
TRAVEWDSAIN OS Sie 


At the first glance the effect is most satisfying. The 
possibly too severe, too sober, too classical lines of 
the building are happily relieved by the richness of the 
materials, the finest which human piety ever employed 
in the construction of a temple: gold, marble, bronze, 
and granite. Without falling into the medley of colours 
of systematically polychrome architecture, St. Isaac’s 
has borrowed from those superb materials a harmonious 
variety of tints, the charm of which is augmented by 
their sincerity, by their reality. “There is nothing 
painted, nothing sham, nothing in that wealth that lies 
to God. Massive granite supports eternal bronze; the 
walls are overlaid with indestructible marble; pure 
gold shines in the crosses, upon the dome and the 
belfries, imparting to the building the Oriental and 
Byzantine character of the Greek church. 

St. Isaac’s rests upon a substructure of granite, which, 
in my opinion, ought to have been higher; not that it 
is out of harmony with the edifice, but that, isolated as 
it is in the centre of a square bordered by palaces and 
tall houses, the monument would have gained in per- 
spective by being raised at the base; so much the more 
that a long horizontal line tends to curve in the centre, 


a truth which Greek art recognised when, starting from 


24.4 


ALALLAALAALLLAEAALELELEL ELS 
Sak VES: AcAIGTS 


the central point, it slightly sloped the architrave of 
the Parthenon. A great square, however level it may 
be, always appears somewhat concave in the centre; 
it is this optical effect that causes St. Isaac’s, in spite 
of the genuine harmony of the proportions, to appear 
too low. This disadvantage, which is not excessive, 
could easily be remedied by making the ground slope 
slightly from the foot of the cathedral to the four faces 
of the square. 

Each portico, corresponding to each of the four arms 
of the Greek cross of the plan, is reached by three 
colossal granite steps intended for giants and made 
without thought or care for human legs; but at three 
of the peristyles, which have doors, the steps are cut 
and divided into nine lower steps opposite each en- 
trance. ‘Ihe fourth portico is not so arranged; the 
Ikonostas being placed against the inner wall there can 
be no door there, and the granite staircase, worthy of 
the Temple of Karnac, is unbroken, save that on either 
side, in the angle near the wall, the steps are each cut 
into three other narrow ones, to give access to the 
platform of the portico. 

The whole of this substructure, which is of reddish- 


gray spotted Finland granite, is set, dressed, and polished 


245 


whe obs obs obs oe ob abe lls abe le ob boas bao be ofr obs fool obs abe abo fe 


OPO Oe OFS CES CFS CFO OO OFS WHE UFO OTE OTe UTE 


TRA VWEJUSAGN Rapp 


— 


with Egyptian perfection, and for many centuries will 
bear without yielding the temple that rests upon it. 

The principal portico, which faces the Neva, is, like 
all the others, octostyle, that is, composed of a row of 
eight pillars of the Corinthian order, formed of a single 
stone, with bronze bases and capitals. “Iwo groups 
of four similar pillars, placed at the back, support the 
caissons of the ceiling, and the roof of the triangular 
pediment, the architrave of which rests upon the outer 
row. There are altogether sixteen columns, which 
form an exceedingly rich and majestic peristyle. The 
portico of the opposite facade is exactly similar. The 
two others, also octostyle, have a single row of pillars 
of the same order and the same materials; they were 
added to the original plan during the building of the 
cathedral, and quite fulfil their purpose, which is to 
adorn the somewhat bare sides of the edifice. In the 
pediments are set bronze bassi-relievi, which I shall 
describe when I come to the details of the edifice, the 
main lines of which [ am engaged in drawing. 

After ascending the nine steps cut in the three great 
granite steps, the last of which forms a stylobate for 
the pillars, one is struck by the huge size of these 


pillars, the elegant proportions of which conceal their 


246 


dimensions from a distance. ‘These prodigious mono- 
\iths are not less than seven feet in diameter by fifty-six 
feet in height; seen close by they resemble towers, 
circled with bronze and crowned with brazen vegeta- 
tion. ‘There are forty-eight of them in the four por- 
ticoes, exclusive of those on the cupola, which, it is 
true, are only thirty feet high. Next to Pompey’s 
pillar and the Column erected in remembrance of 
Emperor Alexander [I], they are the largest stones ever 
cut, turned, and polished by the hand of man. Accord- 
ing to the way the light falls upon them a ray of bluish 
light like a flash of steel shimmers along their surface, 
which is smoother than a mirror, and by its unbroken 
line, which no projection interrupts, proves the homo- 
geneousness of the monstrous block, a fact the mind 
finds it difficult to accept. It’ is impossible to describe 
the tremendous impression of strength, power, and 
eternity mutely expressed by these giant pillars, that 
rise straight up and bear upon their Atlas heads the 
comparatively light weight of the pediments and statues. 
They are as durable as the bones of the earth itself, 
and are resolved to vanish only when it does. 

The one hundred and four monolithic pillars em- 


ployed in the building of St. Isaac’s were brought from 


247 


bihbbbbhbrtbtttetbtdtebbbdt 


ere ere oTe 


TRAVELS AWN ieGsore 


quarries situated in two small islands in the Gulf of 
Finland between Viborg and Fredericksham. Finland, 
as is well known, is one of the countries on earth rich- 
est in granite, and no doubt some pre-historic cosmic 
cataclysm accumulated there in enormous masses that 
beautiful material which is as indestructible as nature 
itself, 

On either side of the projection formed by the por- 
tico there is in the marble wall a monumental window ; 
the cornice is ornamented with bronze and supported 
by two small granite pillars, with bronze bases and 
capitals. It has also a baicony with balustrade sup- 
ported on brackets. ‘The main divisions of the design 
are marked by denticulated cornices, surmounted by 
attics, the projections casting pleasant shadows; at 
the corners are fluted Corinthian pillars topped by an 
angel standing with folded wings. 

Two quadrangular campaniles projecting from the 
main line of the building at each corner of the facade 
repeat the motives of the monumental window, with 
their granite pillars, their bronze capitals, their bal- 
ustraded balconies, and their triangular pediments. 
Through the arched openings are seen the bells hung 


without the use of beams, by means of a_ peculiar 


248 


Ltbebhbbbbbbbbbbbbhbebh bbb 
SE. FSA A.Ga3 


mechanism. A round gilded cap, surmounted by a 
cross resting on a crescent, tops these campaniles ; 
which are open to the light and whence escape the 
harmonious vibrations of the bronze. It is needless 
to add that these two belfries are reproduced identi- 
cally on the other facade. Indeed, from the spot 
where we are standing one can see shining the third 
cupola; the fourth belfry alone being concealed by 
the dome. 

At the two extremities of the facades kneeling 
angels are suspending wreaths on candelabra of antique 
form. On the acroters are placed groups of single 
figures representing apostles. This wealth of statues 
aptly enlivens the skyline of the edifice and pleasantly 
breaks the horizontal lines. 

These are, broadly, the principal parts of what may 
be called the first story of the building. Let us pass 
to the dome, which springs boldly into the heavens 
from a square platform which forms the roof of the 
church. 

A round base, divided by three deep sunken mould- 
ings, serves as a base to the tower, and as a stylobate 
to the twenty-four granite monoliths thirty feet high, 


with bronze capitals and bases, that surround the top 


249 


& 


iP 
it 
rs 
- 
i 
- 
- 
ie 
i> 


tbbbttbbbtté 
TRAVELS AWN RSs le 


of the dome with a rotunda of pillars, forming an 
aerial diadem on which the light plays and gleams. 
Between these pillars are twelve windows, and upon 
their capitals rests a semicircular cornice surmounted 
by a balustrade, with twenty-four pediments on which 
stand, with fluttering wings, twenty-four angels bearing 
the instruments of the Passion, or attributes of the 
celestial hierarchy. 

The dome rises above this angelic crown, placed on 
the front of the cathedral. “I'wenty-four windows are 
placed between an equal number of pillars, and from 
the cornice swells the vast cupola, blazing with gold 
and striated with mouldings in reliet, which spring in 
line with the columns. An octagonal lantern, flanked 
by small pillars and gilded all over, surmounts the 
cupola and ends in a colossal open-work cross trium- 
phantly planted upon the crescent. 

In architecture, as in music, there are square rhythms, 
symmetrically harmonious, which charm the eye and the 
ear without troubling it. The mind anticipates with 
pleasure the return of the motive at a place marked 
beforehand. St. Isaac’s produces that effect. It is 
developed like a beautiful phrase of ecclesiastical 


music, that fulfils the promises of its pure, classical 


250 


bebbbbbbbbbthdbbbbbhbtd te 
SID. WS AcAIGES 


i> 


~— 


theme, and it does not offend the eye by any disso- 
nance. The rose-coloured columns or pillars form 
choirs of equal numbers, singing the same melody. 
On the four facades of the edifice, the Corinthian 
acanthus blooms in green bronze on every capital. 
Bands of granite extend over the friezes like bearing 
stones, below which the statues correspond by contrasts 
or resemblances of attitude which recall the logical in- 
versions of a fugue; and the great cupola sends up 
into the heavens the highest note of all between the 
four campaniles that accompany it. No doubt the 
motive is simple, like all motives drawn from Greek 
or Roman antiquity, but it is splendidly carried out, 
producing a wonderful symphony in marble, granite, 
bronze, and gold. 

If the selection of this style of architecture inspires 
any regret to those who believe that the Byzantine and 
Gothic styles are better suited to the poetry and the 
needs of Christian worship, it should be remembered 
that this one is eternal and universal, consecrated by 
ages and by human admiration, and above time and 
fashion. 

The classical austerity of the plan adopted by the 


architect of St. Isaac’s did not allow him to emplov 


251 


dechcb eee bbe bb bbb cheb ected 
TRA VEES¥d N SRO S Sie 


for the exterior of the temple, with its severely antique 
lines, fanciful designs in which the carver’s chisel 
revels, wreaths, foliage, trophies, with children, genii, 
attributes that have often little relation to the building, 
and which serve merely to mask empty spaces. Save 
for the acanthus and a few ornaments required by the 
order of architecture, statuary forms the whole decora- 
tion of St. Isaac’s; bassi-relievi, groups of statues in 
bronze, that is all, — a superb sobriety. 

Keeping to the point of view that I selected, at the 
corner of Admiralty Boulevard, in order to sketch 
rapidly the general aspect of the building, I shall now 
proceed to describe the bassi-relievi and statues as seen 
from this spot ; making the round of the church later. 

The bas-relief of the northern pediment, the one 
which faces the Neva, represents ‘The Resurrection 
of Christ.”” It is by Lemaire, the sculptor of the 
pediment of the Madeleine in Paris. “The composition 
is grand, monumental, decorative, and thoroughly fulfils 
its purpose. ‘The resuscitated Christ springs from the 
tomb, holding the labarum; He is in an ascending po- 
sition, in the very centre of the triangle, so that the 
figure is fully treated. On the left of the radiant 


apparition, a seated angel repels with a compelling 


252 


betebbbboberteeee tt tte cee 
So. aS ACATGES 


gesture, the Roman soldiers to whom the guard of the 
tomb had been intrusted, and whose attitudes express 
surprise, fear, and a desire to prevent the predicted 
miracle. On the right two angels, standing, receive 
with reassuring kindness the holy women who have 
come to weep and pour out perfumes on the tomb of 
Jesus. Magdalen has sunk on her knees, overcome 
with grief, for she has not yet beheld the miracle. 
Martha and Mary, who had come sadly bearing boxes 
of nard and cinnamon to pay the honours due to 
the dead, watch the ascension into ylory of the 
luminous body, as one of the angels points to Christ. 
The composition forms a good pyramid, and the bowed 
attitudes, rendered necessary by the diminution of the 
height at the outer extremities of the pediment, explain 
themselves naturally. The relief of the figures is cal- 
culated, according to their position, to produce strong 
shadows and clean contours, which do not trouble the 
eye; a happy mingling of round and flat produces as 
much perspective as may reasonably be asked of a bas- 
relief without interfering with the great architectural 
lines. 

Below the pediment in the granite entablature of the 


frieze, broken by a marble tablet, is cut an inscription 


253 


bebbebhrreebttttdbttttttts 
TRAVELSAIN RUSSIA 


in Slavonic characters, the liturgical characters used by 
the Greek Church; this inscription, which is in letters 
of gilt bronze, means: ‘¢ The Czar shall rejoice in thy 
strength, O Lord.” 

Upon the acroters, at the three angles of the pedi- 
ment, are placed the Evangelist St. John and the two 
apostles St. Peter and St. Paul; the Evangelist, who 
occupies the summit, is seated and is grouped with the 
symbolical eagle; in his right hand he holds a pen, and in 
his left a papyrus. St. Peter and St. Paul are known, 
the one by his keys, the other by the great sword upon 
which he leans. 

Under the peristyle above the main entrance, a great 
bronze bas-relief, arched in its upper part like the vault- 
ing which frames it in, represents ‘¢ Christ crucified be- 
tween the two Thieves.”’ At the foot of the Tree of 
Sorrows the Holy Women are mourning and fainting. 
In one corner the Roman soldiers are casting lots for 
the tunic of the Divine Victim; in the other, awak- 
ened by the last cry of Jesus, the dead are rising and 
pushing aside the broken stones that closed their tomb. 

In the two side doors, semicircular in form, are 


> 


seen, on the left, “* Christ bearing His Cross,” and on 


the right “ The Entombment.” The Crucifixion is by 
254 


aah 


echo heh bbb bbb bcb bh ob ot 
Sil. WS ‘Av Al G’*S 


Vitali, the other two bassi-relievi by Baron Klodt. The 
great monumental bronze doors are adorned with bassi- 
relievi in the following order: on the lintel, ‘¢ Christ’s 


> 


entry into Jerusalem,” on the left, “« Ecce Homo,” and 
on the right, “The Flagellation.” Below, on oblong 
panels are saints in ecclesiastical vestments, St. Nicholas 
and St. Isaac each occupying a niche, the arch of which 
is in the form of a shell. In the small panels are two 
small kneeling angels bearing in the centre of a car- 
touche a Greek cross with rays and inscriptions. ‘The 
drama of the Passion in all its phases is pictured under 
the portico; the apotheosis beams radiantly upon the 
pediment. 

Let us now pass to the eastern portico, the great bas- 
relief on which is also by Lemaire. It represents an 
incident in the life of St. Isaac of Dalmatia, the patron 
of the cathedral. “The Emperor Valens, leaving Con- 
stantinople to meet the Goths in battle, was stopped by 
St. Isaac, who dwelt in a cell near the city, and who 
foretold that the Emperor would fail in his enterprise 
because he was at war with God in helping the Arians. 
The angry Emperor caused the saint to be loaded with 
chains, and thrown into prison, promising him death if 


his prophecy should prove false, and freedom if it should 
255 


LEELEALLELLLAELALALALAL ALLS 
TRAV. EES IN ARDS See 


prove true. [he Emperor was slain on that expedi- 
tion, and Saint Isaac, being set free, was greatly 
honoured by Emperor Theodosius. 

Valens is mounted on a horse that rears, terrified by 
the saint, who is standing in the centre of the road. It 
is not easy to make a successful equestrian statue in 
high relief, and there are very few that are entirely 
satisfactory. In bas-relief, the difficulty is increased, 
but Lemaire has overcome it very successfully: his 
horse, which is lifelike, though free from too many 
realistic details, as is proper in monumental statuary, 
bears its rider handsomely ; the figure of the latter, thus 
raised up, has a classical effect, and dominates, without 
any hint of artifice, the groups that surround it. The 
saint has just spoken his prediction, and the orders of 
the Emperor are being carried out; soldiers are loading 
with chains the arms of the saint, outstretched in sup- 
plication and menace. It was difficult to conciliate 
more skilfully the double action in the subject. Behind 
Valens are crowding warriors unsheathing their swords, 
seizing their bucklers, putting on their armour, thus 
carrying out the idea of an army setting out to war. 
Behind Saint Isaac stands the army, more power- 


ful in Heaven, of unfortunates, beggars, and women 


256 


pressing their nurslings to their breasts. “The compo- 
sition has breadth, truth, and life; nor has the restric- 
tion imposed by the lowering of the triangle hurt the 
outer groups. 

On the acroter of the pediment stand three statues ; 
in the centre St. Luke, the Evangelist, with his ox lying 
down by him; he is painting the first portrait of the 
Virgin, the sacred model of Byzantine images. On 
either side are St. Simeon with his saw, and St. James 
with a book. The Slavic inscription means literally, 
“In Thee, O Lord, we trust, secure of eternity.” 

As the Ikonostas rests against the interior wall of this 
portico, there is no door and consequently there are no 
bassi-relievi under the colonnade, which is ornamented 
merely with engaged Corinthian pilasters. 

The southern pediment was intrusted to Vitali. It 


> 


represents “The Adoration of the Magi,” a subject 
which the great masters of painting have made it almost 
impossible for painters to treat, and which modern 
statuary has rarely attempted on account of the num- 
ber of figures it requires, but which did not frighten 
the artless Gothic sculptors when patiently carving 
their triptychs. It is a showy composition, elegantly 


arranged, rather too facile in its fulness perhaps, but 


VOL. I-—17 257 


nT RAVETEA a 


which attracts the eye. The Blessed Virgin, seated in 
the folds of her veil, which the ingenious sculptor has 
parted like the curtains of a tabernacle, presents to the 
adoration of the Magi kings, bowing or kneeling at her 
feet in attitudes of Oriental respect, the little Child 
who is to redeem the world, and whose divinity she 
already foresees. ‘Che miraculous birth heralded by 
apparitions, the kings who have come from the depths 
of Asia, guided by a star, to kneel before the cradle, 
bringing vases of gold and boxes of perfumes, all these 
things trouble the heart of the Virgin Mother ; she is 
almost afraid of the Child who is God. As for St. 
Joseph, leaning on a stone, he takes a very small part 
in the scene, accepting these strange events with sub- 
missive faith, without quite understanding them. 

In the suites of the kings, Gaspar, Melchior, Bal- 
thazar, are numerous splendid personages, officers, 
bearers of presents, slaves, who fill abundantly the two 
ends of the composition. Behind them shepherds clad 
in goatskins are making their way with timid curiosity, 
and worshipping from afar; between two groups an ox 
shows its kindly face with shining nostrils. But why 
has the ass been suppressed? It also drew its mouth- 
ful of straw from the manger, and it also warmed with 


258 


SLELLEALLLELALLALE LLL ALLELES 
Seb. FLD ACAI GES 


its breath the future Saviour of the world, who had 
just been born in the stable. Art has not the right to 
be prouder than the Deity. Jesus did not despise the 
ass, for it was upon a colt, the foal of an ass, that he 
made his entry into Jerusalem. 

In accordance with the interchanging rhythm of the 
decoration, three statues stand upon the acroters of 
this facade : at the summit St. Matthew, writing to the 
dictation of the angel; at the two ends St. Andrew, 
with his saltire cross, and St. Philip with his book and 
pastoral cross. ‘The inscription on the frieze reads : 
“© My house shall be called the house of prayer.” 

Now let us enter under the peristyle, arranged in the 
same manner as the northern one. Above the main 
door, in the tympanum of the vaulting, is a great gal- 
_ vano-plastic bas-relief like that of ‘* The Crucifixion,” 
which represents “Ihe Adoration of the Shepherds.” 
It is a familiar repetition of the preceding scene. The 
central group is much the same, though the Virgin 
turns with a gesture of more sympathetic abandon towards 
the shepherds, bringing to the new-born Child their 
rustic offerings, than she does towards the Magi kings, 
laying their rich presents at His feet. She is not play- 


ing the queen, and is gentle to these humble, simple- 


259 


Seach cbah bbb hob dbhebdechecb och cbcech hab 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


hearted, poor people, who are giving the best they have. 
She presents her child to them with full trust, undoing 
the swaddling-clothes to show them how strong He is. 
The shepherds bowing or kneeling, admire and wor- 
ship, full of faith in the angel’s words ; they are arriving 
and crowding up, the woman with a basket of fruit on 
her shoulder, the child with a pair of doves; and above, 
the angels are flying around the star that marks the 
_ stable of Bethlehem. 

On the side doors, also in semicircular form, are two 
bassi-relievi, that on the left representing “ The Angel 
announcing the Birth of Christ to the Shepherds,” the 
other “ The Massacre of the Innocents; ” both are by 
Laganovsky. , 

On the lintel of the great bronze door is ‘“ The 
Presentation in the Temple;” on the two leaves 
“The Flight into Egypt” and “ Jesus Christ among 
the Doctors;” below, in the shell-shaped niches, a 
warrior saint and a warrior angel, St. Alexander and 
St. Michael; lower down, on the inferior panels, little 
angels supporting crosses. This portico contains in its 
decoration the whole poem of the Nativity and child- 
hood of Christ, as the other contains the whole drama 


of the Passion. 


260 


che che obs che ae obs abe he he cto teste be heck cde ated che che cde abe obo 
Sf. 38S A A:Gas 


On the eastern pediment we have seen St. Isaac 
persecuted by Emperor Valens; on the western one 
we behold his triumph, if such a word can be used 
of a humble saint. Emperor Theodosius the Great 
is returning victorious from the war against the barba- 
rians, and near the Golden Gate St. Isaac, honour- 
ably freed from captivity, stands before him in his 
wretched monk’s frock bound with a chaplet ; holding 
in his left hand a double cross, he raises the right in 
blessing over the Emperor’s head. ‘Theodosius bends 
reverently ; his arm, placed around the Empress Flaccilla, 
draws her with him as if he sought to make her a 
sharer in the saint’s blessing. The thought is charm- 
ing and rendered with remarkable skill; the majestic 
faces of the Emperor and the Empress suggest august 
resemblances. At the foot of the laurel-crowned 
Theodosius are seen eagles and the emblems of victory. 
On the right of the group, as the spectator looks at it, 
are walriors in attitudes of the liveliest fervour, bend- | 
ing and kneeling on the ground, lowering fasces and 
axes before the cross; in the middle distance a person- 
age with contracted features and gestures of annoyance 
and fury appears to be going away and to leave 


St. Isaac, whose influence has predominated, in posses- 
ye) eer 


261 


A 


ALEALALALLALLALALLLLL LAE LALLA 
TRAV EES S@EN 4S oeee 


sion of the field. It is Demophilus, the chief of the 
Arians, who had hoped to seduce Theodosius and to 
make the heresy prevail. At one end 1s seen, with her 
child, the Edessa woman whose sudden apparition 
caused the troops sent to persecute the Christians to 
retreat. On the left a lady-in-waiting of the Empress, 
in rich garments, supports a poor paralytic woman, 
symbolical of the charity which reigns in this Christian 
order. A little child playing with all the graceful 
suppleness of its age, contrasts with the stiff immobility 
of the patient. In the angle of the bas-relief, by 
a synchronism admissible in idealized statuary, is seen 
the architect of the church, draped in antique fashion, 
and presenting a miniature model of the cathedral 
which in later years will arise under the patronage of 
St. Isaac. This fine composition, the groups of which 
are symmetrically and skilfully balanced and co-ordi- 
nated, is by Vitali. 

In this portico, simpler than those on the north and 
south facades, there are no semicircular or arched 
bassi-relievi. It is pierced with a single door opening 
opposite the Ikonostas ; this bronze door is divided like 
those I have already described. ‘The bas-relief on the 


lintel represents the “Sermon on the Mount;” in the 


262 


upper compartments of the leaves are set the ‘“* Resur- 
rection of Lazarus” and “ Jesus healing the Paralytic ; ” 
St. Peter and St. Paul occupy the shell niches; below, 
angels support the symbol of the redemption of man. 
The vine and corn, the eucharistic symbols, form 
the motives of the ornamentation of this and the 
other gates. St. Mark accompanied by the lion, which 
Venice took for arms, writes his Gospel on the summit 
of the pediment ; the extremities of which are adorned 
by St. Thomas carrying the square and stretching out 
the sceptical finger which he desired to put into the 
wounds of Christ before he would believe in the res- 
urrection, — and St. Bartholomew with the instruments 
of his martyrdom, the wood-horse and the knife. On 
the tablet of the frieze is the following inscription : 
“To the King of Kings.” 

The archaic form of Slavonic characters lends itself 
to monumental inscriptions; it is ornamental, like Cufic 
and Arabic. ‘There are other inscriptions under the peri- 
styles and on the doors, expressing religious or mystical 
ideas; I have translated those only which are most 
visible. 

It was Vitali who, with the help of Salemann and 
Bouilli, modelled all the carving of all the gates; the 


263 


dhe bbb bbb chsh ebt ch bod 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA. 


evangelists and apostles on the acroters are also his 
work, ‘These figures are not less than fifteen feet two 
inches in height; the angels kneeling by the can- 
delabra are seventeen feet high, and the candelabra them- 
selves twenty feet in height. ‘The angels, with their 
great outspread wings, resemble mystic eagles that have 
swooped down from on high upon the four corners of 
the edifice. 

I have already said that a flock of angels has alight- 
ed upon the crown of the dome; the height at which 
they are placed prevents their features from being seen 
in detail, but the sculptor has given them elegant and 
graceful profiles, which are easily seen from below. 

Thus on the cornices, the cupola, the acroters, the 
attics, the entablatures of the building, but exclusive of 
the half-engaged figures on the pediments, the dassi- 
relievi on the vaultings and on the hemicycles, and the 
figures on the gates, there are fifty-two statues three 
times larger than life, which form for St. Isaac’s an 
everlasting people of bronze in varied attitudes, but 
subject, like an architectural chorus, to the cadences of 
linear rhythm. 

Before entering the church, which I have sketched 


as faithfully as the lack of words allows, I must guard 


264 


against the belief that because of its noble, pure, severe 
lines, its sobriety of ornamentation, and the austerely 
antique taste of the architecture, the cathedral of St. 
Isaac’s, with its perfect regularity, has the coldly monot- 
onous and slightly gruesome aspect of the architecture 
called classical for want of a more accurate expression. 
The gilding of the cupolas, and the rich variety of the 
materials used in the building, have preserved it from 
this defect ; while the climate colours it with plays of 
light with unexpected effects, which make it thoroughly 
Russian instead of Roman. The fairies of the North 
flutter around the noble monument and nationalise it, 
without depriving it of its antique and grandiose aspect. 

Winter in Russia has a poetry of its own; its rigours 
are compensated by extremely picturesque, beauteous 
effects and aspects. [he snow frosts with silver the 
golden cupolas, outlines with a shining line the entab- 
latures and the pediments, puts white touches upon the 
brazen acanthus, fixes luminous points upon the pro- 
jections and statues, and modifies all the relations of 
the tones by magical transpositions. At this season St. 
Isaac’s acquires a thoroughly local character. It has 
superb colouring, whether it stands out picked out in 


white against a background of gray sky, or whether its 


265 


thtetetbrteettetttttéttetst 
TRAV E US#UN, Rega 


profile shows against one of those turquoise and rose 
skies which shine over St. Petersburg when the cold is 
dry and the snow cracks under the feet like glass pow- 
der. Sometimes, after a thaw, the icy wind in one 
night freezes upon the mass of the monument the 
moisture that has exuded from the granite and the 
marble; a network of pearls, finer and rounder than 
dew-drops on plants, envelops the gigantic pillars of 
the peristyle; the reddish granite turns to tenderest 
rose, and its smooth surface acquires a bloom like that 
of a peach or of a plum-tree blossom ; it becomes trans- 
formed into a new and unknown material like unto the 
precious stones of which the Heavenly Jerusalem is 
built. The crystallisation of vapour covers the edifice 
with a diamond dust that sends out flashes and bluish 
gleams when touched by a sunbeam, making it look like 
a cathedral of gems in the City of God. 

Every hour of the day has its own mirage. When 
one looks at St. [saac’s in the morning from the quay 
of the Neva, it appears the colour of the amethyst and 
the smoky topaz, amid an aureole of milky and rosy 
splendours. ‘The whitish mists which float at its base 
separate it from earth and make it float upon an archi- 


pelago of vapour. At night, when seen from the 


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yA Did ES ws Ws | Bee 


corner of the Little Morskaia, and when the light falls 
in a particular way, the windows lighted up by the rays 
of the setting sun, it seems to be illuminated and burn- 
ing within, and the great windows burn unconsumed in 
the sombre walls. Sometimes in foggy weather, when 
the clouds are low, they descend upon the cupola, and 
cap it as-if it were a mountain summit. I have seen — 
and a wondrous sight it was —the lantern on the upper 
half of the dome disappear in a bank of fog; the cloud 
-cutting with its band of mist the gilded hemisphere of 
the high tower, gave to the cathedral a prodigious 
height and the air of a Christian Babel, seeking to find 
but not to brave in the heavens Him without whom 
builders build but in vain. 

Night, which in other climates casts its opaque shades 
upon buildings, cannot entirely extinguish St. Isaac’s; 
its dome remains visible under the black dais of heaven, 
with tones of pale gold like an immense semi-luminous 
ball; no darkness, not even that of the most sombre 
nights of December, can prevail against it; it is always 
seen above the city, and if the dwellings of men are lost 
in the shadows of sleep the house of God shines and 
seems to watch over them. When the darkness is less 


intense, when the scintillation of the stars and the faint 


267 


she obese ce obras rede obec cece deco a ohe doo 


CTO CFO CFO Ue UFO 


TRAV ELS GIN (RSS ee 


light of the Milky Way allow the outlines of objects to 
become visible, the great masses of the cathedral show 
out majestically with mysterious solemnity. Its pol- 
ished pillars are revealed by an unexpected reflection, 
and upon the attics the faintly visible statues seem to 
be terrestrial sentinels intrusted with the guard of the 
sacred edifice. What is left of light in the heavens 
concentrates upon one point of the dome with such in- 
tensity that the nocturnal passer-by may take the single 
golden spot for a lighted lamp. At times an even more 
wondrous effect is produced ,—lJuminous touches 
flame at the extremity of each of the mouldings which 
divide the dome, and cover it with a crown of stars, a 
sidereal diadem placed upon the golden tiara of the 
temple. A less scientific and more credulous age would 
take this for a miracle, so dazzling and inexplicable is 
this very natural effect. 

If the moon is full and shows free from clouds, about 
the middle of the night, St. Isaac’s assumes under its 
opaline light, ashen, silvery, bluish, violet tints of un-_ 
imaginable delicacy ; the rosy tones of the granite turn 
into a faint purple shade, the bronze draperies of the 
statues whiten like linen robes, the gilded cupolas and 


belfries are enriched by reflections like unto pale, trans- 


268 


tebebbbrtttrtttttttetekes 
ot De VSA A Gee 


parent amber; the snowy lines of the cornice here and 
there flash like spangles. The orb of night, in the 
depths of the steel-cold, blue Northern sky, seems to be 
looking at its own silvery face mirrored in the golden 
surface of the dome. The beam which results from 
this recalls the electrum the ancients made of gold and 
silver molten together. 

From time to time the fairy beauties with which the 
North relieves the length of its icy nights, display their 
magnificence above the cathedral: the aurora borealis 
flashes up, behind the dark silhouette of the building, its 
mighty polar fireworks; an ever-shifting irradiation of 
light-waves, luminosity, and changing phosphorescent 
zones, blooms with a silvery, pearly, opaline, rosy splen- 
dour that dims the stars and makes the ever-radiant 
cupola seem black save for the one shining point, the 
golden lamp of the sanctuary, which nothing can 
eclipse. 

I have endeavoured to paint St. Isaac’s on winter 
days and nights, but the summer is no less rich in 
effects as novel as they are wonderful; on those long 
days, scarce interrupted by a short diaphanous hour of 
night, which is at once a twilight and a dawn, St. 


Isaac’s, bathed in light, stands out with the majestic 


269 


Leb bb bbb bebebebebbbbbbes 
TRAVEWUS #40UN.> Rego Sia 


clearness of a classical monument. The vanished 
mirage allows the superb reality to be seen; but, when 
the transparent shadows envelop the city, the sun con- 
tinues to shine upon the colossal dome; from the far 
distant horizon, below which it plunges to emerge at 
once, its beams still strike the gilded cupola. So in 
mountain chains the highest peak remains illumined 
with a flash of sunshine, while the valleys below have 
long since disappeared in the mists of evening ; but at 
last the light abandons the gilded peak and seems regret- 
fully to reascend to heaven, while here the glorious 
light never leaves the dome. When all the stars in the 
sky are extinguished, there is still one blazing upon St. 
Isaac’s. 

Now that I have to the best of my power given you 
an idea of the exterior of the cathedral in its general 
aspects, let us enter, for the interior is no less superb. 

The ordinary entrance to St. Isaac’s is through the 
southern door, but it is well to try to enter by the 
western door, opposite the Ikonostas; it is from this 
point that the building shows to the greatest advantage. 
No sooner has one stepped within than one is filled 
with amazement. ‘The mighty grandeur of the archi- 


tecture, the profusion of the most precious marbles, the 


270 


bebbbbbehbtttete terete test 
Sse S AsAIGES 


brilliancy of the gilding, the fresco tints of the mural 
paintings, the shimmering of the polished pavement, in 
which everything is reflected, —all combine to pro- 
duce a dazzling impression, especially if the glance rests, 
as it must inevitably do, upon the Ikonostas: a mar- 
vellous edifice, a temple within a temple, a facade of 
gold, malachite, and lapis-lazuli, with gates of massive 
silver; and yet this is only the veil of the sanctuary. 
The eye is forcibly attracted to it, whether the open 
doors allow one to perceive the sparklingly transparent 
colossal Christ in painted glass, or whether, closed, they 
merely show in the round bay the purple curtain which 
seems to have been dyed in the blood of Jesus. 

The interior arrangement of the edifice is exceedingly 
simple. Three naves correspond to the three doors of 
the Ikonostas, and they are cut transversely by the nave 
which forms the arms of the cross, completed externally 
by the projecting porticoes. The dome rises at the 
point of intersection; at the corners, four other domes 
balance symmetrically and mark the architectural 
rhythm. 

Upon a substructure of marble rises the Corinthian 
order with fluted pillars and pilasters, and bases and 


capitals of gilded bronze and ormolu, which forms the 


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bebbebbtttebtetttttttttttst 
TRAVELS AN | Kes Sige 


decoration of the building. This order, applied to the 
walls and to the massive pillars which support the vault- 
ing and the roof, is surmounted by an attic cut by pil- 
asters, forming panels and frames for paintings. On 
this attic rest the archivolts, the pediments of which 
are decorated with devotional subjects. 

‘The spaces on the walls between the pillars and 
pilasters are overlaid, from the substructure to the cor- 
nice, with white marble, on which are outlined panels 
and compartments in marble of various colours: Genoa 
green, speckled Sienna yellow, various jaspers, red Fin- 
land porphyry, —the finest materials, in short, which 
the richest quarries could furnish. Niches supported 
by brackets contain paintings and break pleasantly the 
plane surfaces. The roses and modillions of the soffits 
are of gilded galvano-plastic bronze and stand well out 


from the marble compartments. “The ninety-six pillars 


and pilasters have been brought from the Tvidi quarries, - 


which furnish a fine marble veined with gray and rose. 
The white marble comes from Seravezza, and Michael 
Angelo preferred it to the Carrara marble: I need say 
no more, for the architect of St. Peter’s and the sculptor 
of the Tomb of the Medici was a connoisseur in marble 


if there ever was one. 


272 


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Now let us come to the cupola, which opes above 
the visitor’s head its aerial abyss. It is of an unchang- 
ing solidity, in which iron, bronze, brick, granite, and 
marble combine their well-nigh eternal resistance, in 
accordance with mathematical laws evolved by careful 
calculation. “The dome, from the flooring to the lan- 
tern vaulting, is two hundred and ninety-six feet and 
eight inches high, or forty-two sagens two arshins in 
Russian measures. The length of the building is two 
hundred and eighty-eight feet and eight inches, or 
thirty-nine sagens two arshins; and the breadth is one 
hundred and forty-nine feet and eight inches, or forty- 
one sagens three arshins. 

In the very top of the lantern a colossal Holy Ghost 
displays, at an immense height, its white wings in a 
glory; lower down there is a semi-cupola with golden 
palm branches on an azure ground. ‘Then comes the 
great spherical vault of the dome, its upper opening 
bordered by a cornice with a frieze adorned with gilded 
wreaths and angels’ heads. The base rests upon the 
entablature of the order of twelve fluted Corinthian 
pilasters, between which are twelve windows; an imita- 
tion balustrade, which forms a transition between the 


architectural work and the painting, crowns this entab- 


VOL.. I —18 273 


ttbbbtttettetettttetetes 
TRAVELS AIN (RGSS Te 


lature ; and in the luminosity of a vast sky shines the 
great composition representing the ‘“¢ Triumph of the 
Virgin.” 

This painting, like all those on the dome, was in- 
trusted to Brulof, known in Paris by his painting of the 


> 


“Last Day of Pompeii,’ which figured in one of the 
exhibitions. He deserved to be chosen, but ill health, 
followed by premature death, did not allow him to exe- 
cute this important work in person; he only managed 
to draw the cartoons, so that, carefully as his ideas and 
directions were followed, it is to be regretted that these 
paintings, so very well suited to their decorative desti- 
nation, should not have had the advantage of the eye, 
the hand, and the genius of the master. No doubt he 
would have managed to impart to them all they now 
lack, — touch, colour, fire, everything, in a word, that 
comes up in the execution of the best-ordered work, 
and which a man of similar talent, carrying out another 
one’s thought, is unable to put into it. 

In order that my description may be somewhat 
orderly, let us face the Ikonostas; we shall thus have 
before us the group which forms the centre of this vast 
composition. ‘The Blessed Virgin, enshrined in a glory, 


is seated on a golden throne, her eyes cast down, her 


274 


ktbtbrbeetetebetetttttdetdedtes 
SPS Aga 


hands majestically crossed on her bosom; she seems, 
even in heaven, to submit to triumph rather than to 
accept it. She is the handmaiden of the Lord, ancilla 
Domini, and she yields to the apotheosis. On either 
side of the throne are St. John the Baptist, the Pre- 
cursor, and St. John the well beloved disciple, known 
by his eagle. ‘Ichey both deserve their place of honour, 
for the one foretold the coming of Christ, the other 
followed Him to the Garden of Olives, was with Him 
during His Passion, and it was to Him that the dying 
God intrusted His Mother. 

Above the throne flutter little angels bearing lilies, 
the symbol of purity. Great angels placed at intervals, 
with outspread wings, in bold, foreshortened poses, 
support the bank of clouds that bear the groups [ shall 
now describe, beginning with the left of the Virgin as 
the spectator looks at her, and running around the 
cupola until we have got to the right and thus closed 
the cycle of the composition. One of these angels is 
armed with a long sword, the attribute of St. Paul, who 
is seen kneeling above him on a cloud, next to St. 
Peter, his head turned towards the Virgin; cherubs are 
opening the Epistles and playing with the golden keys 


of Paradise. Upon a cloud which floats above the 


275 


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TRA VE LS AW (Rise 


balustrade and forms an aerial base for the groups, is 
noticed, next to St. Peter and St. Paul, a white-bearded 
old man in the dress of a Byzantine monk; it is St. Isaac 
of Dalmatia, the patron saint of the cathedral. Near 
him stands St. Alexander Nevsky, wearing a breast- 
plate and a purple mantle; angels hold standards behind 
him, and upon a gilded disk the image of Christ recalls 
the service to religion rendered by the holy warrior. 

The next group is composed of the three holy 
women, namely, Anna, mother of the Virgin, Eliza- 
beth, mother of the Precursor, and Catherine, superbly 
dressed with an ermine mantle and brocade gown, and 
a crown on her head, — not because she belonged to a 
royal or princely house, but because she unites the 
triple crown of virginity, martyrdom, and science, so 
that her original name, Dorothy, was changed to that 
of Catherine, the Syriac root of which, ‘Cethar,” 
means “‘crown;”’ her splendour therefore is allegori- 
cal. An angel placed under the crown holds fragments 
of the wheel, with curved teeth, the instruments of the 
saint’s execution. 

Separated by a small space from the group I have 
just described, a third cloud upbears St. Alexis, the man 


in God, wearing a monk’s dress, and Emperor Con- 


276 


SHeéeeteedeteetttetettttreee 
SD. 1 SAAIGES 


stantine, with gilded armour and purple mantle; by his 
side an angel carries the axe and fasces ; another angel, 
placed behind, holds the badge of command, an ancient 
sword in its sheath. 

The last group, nearest the Virgin’s throne, repre- 
sents St. Nicholas, Bishop of Myra and patron saint of 
Russia, wearing a dalmatic and a green stole figured 
with gold crosses, gazing admiringly upon the Mother 
of God; he is surrounded by angels holding banners 
and sacred books. In these figures the patron saints 
of Russia and the imperial family are easily recognised. 
The mystic thought which underlies this immense 
composition, some two hundred and twenty-eight feet 
in length, is the “Triumph of the Church,” sym- 
bolised by the Virgin. 

The arrangement of the composition recalls some- 
what that of the cupola of St. Genevieve, by Baron 
Gros. ‘This is not a reproach to Brulof; such resem- 
blances are unavoidable in devotional subjects, the 
main outlines of which are settled beforehand. Con- 
forming himself to the intentions of the architect, 
much more so than some of the other artists engaged 
in decorating the church, Brulof, or the man who car- 


ried out his scheme of colours, avoided bright colours 


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Sttetebttebetetetttetttte 
TRA VE LS AEN CRG See 


and blacks, always objectionable in mural painting be- 
cause they make holes in the architecture and give the 
figures a relief which spoils the lines of the building. 
These paintings and those which adorn the cathedral 
do not attempt to reproduce the hieratic, motionless, 
unchanging attitudes of Byzantine art, even when they 
are painted on gold backgrounds. De Montferrand 
very judiciously conceived that, as the church of which 
he was the architect borrowed its forms from the pure 
Greek or Roman style, the artists who were to be 
intrusted with the painting should draw their inspira- 
tion from the great Italian school,—the most expert 
and the most skilful in decorating religious buildings 
in this style. So the paintings in St. Isaac’s are in no 
wise archaic, contrary to the customs of the Greek 
church, which readily conforms to the models fixed 
from the earliest days of the Greek church, and 
traditionally preserved by the painters of Mount 
Athos. 

Twelve great gilded angels, performing- the duty 
of caryatids, support brackets on which rest the bases 
of the pilasters that form the interior order of the 
dome and separate the windows; they are no less 
than twenty-one feet in height, and have been cast 


278 


a a a a a a — 


LLELKLALALLLLLSEAAELALLLLL ELS 
oi bS ATAMGsS 


in four pieces by the galvano-plastic process, the 
joints being quite invisible ; in this way they have been 
made sufficiently light not to overburden the cupola, 
in spite of their dimensions. The crown of gilded 
angels, which are bathed in brilliant light and flash 
with metallic reflections, has an exceedingly rich effect; 
the figures are arranged in accordance with a certain 
conventional architectural line, but with sufficient 
variety of attitude and motion to avoid the monotony 
which would result from too rigorous uniformity. 
Various attributes, such as books, palms, crosses, 
scales, crowns, and trumpets, justify the slight differ- 
ences of attitude, and indicate the celestial functions 
of these superb statues. 

The spaces between the angels are filled by seated 
apostles and prophets, each with the symbol by which 
he is known. All these figures, broadly draped, and 
in very good style, stand out from a background of 
golden light of almost the same value. The general 
tone is clear, and as much as possible like that of 
frescoes. 

The pendentives are occupied by four colossal evan- 
gelists. The artist endeavoured to give these figures 


the proud and violent attitudes favoured by the painter 


279 


tthbetttbeteeeetttdttctthes 
TRAVELS AWN RUSSIA 


of the Sistine Chapel. Pendentives, by their peculiar 
form, compel the forcing of the composition so as to 
confine it within their limits, and the constraint due 
to the frame-work is often profitable to the inspiration. 
These evangelists are very striking; by the winged 
lion is known St. Mark, who with one hand holds 
his Gospel, and with the other raised seems to be 
preaching or giving a blessing; a golden circle shines 
around his head; a full blue drapery falls over his 
knees; above him angels bear a cross. St. John, 
dressed in a green tunic and a red mantle, is writing 
upon a long papyrus-band unrolled by two angels 
near him; the mystic eagle flaps its wings and flashes 
apocalyptic glances. Leaning on the ox St. Luke 
gazes upon the portrait of the Virgin, the work of 
his brush, which the angels are holding before him. 
The labarum floats above the halo. around his head. 
An orange-red drapery falls around him in broad 
masses. An angel companion of St. Matthew stands 
by the evangelist’s side. “The latter wears a violet 
tunic, a yellow mantle, and has a book in his hand. 
Against the dark sky which forms a background for 
this as well as the other figures, are flying cherubim, 


and sparkles a star. 


280 


On the points of the pendentives are set four 
pictures representing incidents in the Passion of Christ. 
In the one, Judas, preceding soldiers carrying lanterns 
and torches, gives to his Master the treacherous kiss 
which points Jesus out among the disciples; in the 
other, Christ, standing, is whipped by two executioners 
armed with knotted ropes; the third shows the Just 
Man whom the Jews have rejected in favour of Bar- 
abbas, and Who is led away from the pretorium to be 
handed over to the executioners, while Pontius Pilate 
on his tribunal washes his hands of the blood which 
has stained them forever. The fourth painting repre- 
sents what the Italians call the Spasimo, the breaking 
down of the victim under the weight of the cross of 
torture, on the way to Calvary; the Virgin, the holy 
women, and St. John escort the Divine sufferer, in 
attitudes of grief. 

In the attic of the transept is seen on the right, 
facing the Ikonostas, Pietro Bassine’s ‘Sermon on 
the Mount.” On a plateau in an elevated place, 
shaded by a few trees, Jesus, seated among the disci- 
ples, is preaching; a crowd has collected to listen to 
Him; the paralytics themselves have managed to 


reach the spot on their crutches; the sick are brought 


281 


$t¢¢t¢etttteetetttttettete 
TPRAVELSAEN JRASodae 


on their beds, thirsting for the Word of God; the 
blind grope their way; women listen with all their 
heart; while in one corner Pharisees are disputing 
and arguing. ‘The ordering of the composition is 
fine, and the well-distributed groups bring out the 
full importance of the figure of Christ placed in the 
centre. [he two paintings on the sides have for 
subjects the Parables of “The Sower” and % The 
Good Samaritan.” In the one Jesus is walking 
through the fields with His disciples, and shows them 
the sower sowing the grain, with the birds of heaven 
flying above his head. In the other, the good Samari- 
tan, who has dismounted, is pouring oil upon the 
wounds of the young man left by the roadside, whose 
call for help the Pharisee would not listen to. The 
first painting is by Nikitine, the second by Sazanof. 
In the vaulting in the panel, framed with rich orna- 
ments, cherubs are holding a book against the back- 
ground of sky. 

Opposite the “Sermon on the Mount,” in the 
attic at the other end of the transept, is a vast com- 
position by Pluchart, “ The Miracle of the Loaves.” 
Jesus is in the centre and His disciples are distributing 


to the hungry multitude the miraculous bread which 


282 


eéeeeteteteeetettttetttsts 
St SAC AGES 


is constantly renewed, — symbol of the Eucharistic 
bread, which feeds generations and multitudes upon 
earth. The paintings on the two side walls represent 
“The return of the Prodigal Son,” and “The Labourer 
of the Eleventh Hour,” whom the stewards are driving 
away, but who is welcomed by the master. The one 
is by Sazanof, the other by Nikitine. Cherubim up- 
raising a ciborium are painted on the vaulting. 

The centre nave from the transept to the gate, has 
been decorated by Bruni. In the pediment at the end, 
Jehovah, enthroned on a cloud and surrounded by a 
host of archangels, angels, and cherubim, forming a 
citcle symbolic of eternity, — seems to be satisfied 
with creation and to bless it. At anod of His brows 
the Infinite has trembled within its deepest recesses, 
and nothingness has become everything. 

On the attic is the terrestrial Paradise, with its 
trees, flowers, and animals. The first two human 
beings live in peace among the creatures which sin, 
and death the consequence of sin, will make hostile 
later on. As yet the lion does not tear the gazelle, the 
tiger does not spring at the horse, and the elephant is 
unaware of the power of its tusks. All respect the 


image of God imprinted on the faces of the dwellers in 


283 


ALEADLALAALALSAALEALALL LES 


Eden. In the vaulting, angels contemplate with amaze- 
ment the sun and the moon, the luminaries of heaven, 
which have just been lighted. 

The panel in the attic has for its subject “The 


33 


Deluge; the waters pouring in cataracts from the 
abyss and the sky have covered the young world so 
soon corrupted, which has already made God regret 
that He has given it life. A few peaks, which the 
flood will soon overtop, alone emerge from the shore- 
less ocean; the last remnants of mankind, condemned 
to perish, cling desperately to them with stiff and con- 
tracted muscles, and seek to climb upon the narrow 
plateau. In the distance, under the rain that falls in tor- 
rents, floats the Ark, bearing within its hollow sides the 
sole survivors of the ancient creation. On the other 
panel, the companion painting to “ The Deluge” is 
“© Noah’s Sacrifice.” From a primitive altar in the form 
of a block of rock, ascends into the serene air the bluish 
smoke of the sacrifice that God has accepted; the 
patriarch, with the high stature of an antediluvian 
man, towers over his sons and his daughters-in-law, 
prostrated around him; each pair of them will be the 
ancestors of a great human family. In the background, 


against a curtain of clouds that are passing away, the 


284 


SEEALEALAADLAALLALALLALALA ELS 
S EUS Ares 


rainbow curves its varicoloured arch, —the sign of the 
covenant, which promises, when it appears after a 
storm, that henceforth the waters shall not again cover 
the earth, henceforth safe from any cosmic catastrophe 
until the day of Judgment. 

Somewhat farther on, the ‘ Vision of Ezekiel”’ 
covers a great portion of the vaulting. Standing upon 
a rock, under a sky ablaze with crimson reflections, in 
the centre the valley of Jehoshaphat, the dead population 
of which is germinating and quivering like corn in the 
furrow, —the prophet beholds the terrifying spectacle 
outspread about him; at the irresistible call of the 
angels blowing trumpets, the dead arise in their shrouds, 
the skeletons drag themselves on fleshless limbs, and 
re-adjust their scattered bones; the bodies raise from 
out of the sepulchres their decomposed faces, to which 
life returns with terror and remorse. These larve 
that were once the nations of the earth, seem to beg 
for mercy and to regret the night of the tomb, save a 
few just ones full of hope in the Divine goodness, and 
unterrified by the dread gesture of the prophet. This 
painting, which is of considerable dimensions, exhibits 
great power of imagination and masterly vigour of 


style ; it is plain that the artist studied the frescoes in 


285 


rr 


TRAV EUS MDNR 


the Sistine chapel; the colouring is sober, strong, of 
historical tone, — that noble vestment of thought which 
modern painters too often abandon for sensational 
lighting and the minute, accurate details so utterly out 
of place in monumental and decorative painting. 

At the end of the same nave, on the vaulting of the 
Ikonostas, Bruni has painted *“ The Last Judgment,” 
foretold in the vision of Ezekiel. A colossal Christ, 
twice and even thrice as tall as the figures that sur- 
round Him, stands before His throne on cloud steps. 
I am very much in favour of this Byzantine fashion of 
making the Divine and chief personage dominate in a 
visible manner; it strikes at once both the cultivated 
and the uncultivated imaginations, the latter by the 
material aspect, the former by the ideal. “The ages 
are past, Time is no more, Eternity, Recompense, and 
Chastisement alone subsist; overthrown by the breath 
of angels the old skeleton falls to powder, its scythe 
broken. Death itself dies in its turn. 

On the right of Christ crowd, with an upward 
movement, swarms of souls of the blessed, with slen- 
der, pure forms, long, chaste draperies, faces radiant 
with beauty, love, and ecstasy, fraternally welcomed by 


the angels. On His left fall in a tremendous rush, 


286 


repelled by stern, severe angels, with pointed wings 
and flaming swords, the groups of the damned, in 
which are seen under their hideous forms all the evil 
tendencies that drag man down, — Envy with its long 
hair falling on its lean temples like knots of serpents ; 
Avarice, sordid, angular, and contracted ; Impiety, cast- 
ing at heaven a glance of powerless menace. All the 
guilty, borne down by their sins, are plunged into the 
abyss where the contracted hands of demons, the bodies 
of which are not seen, await them, to tear them in eter- 
nal torture. ‘These knotty hands, provided with claws 
that look like the iron combs used by torturers, are 
intensely poetic and terrifying ; they are an invention 
worthy of Michael Angelo or Dante. The hands I 
saw in the cartoon, but looked for in vain in the paint- 
ing, — the projecting cornice and curve of the dark 
vaulting in this corner no doubt preventing their being 
seen. 

At the two ends of the transept, of which Bruni’s 
“Last Judgment” occupies the centre, are paintings 
arranged as follows, but which a scanty light prevents 
being appreciated properly: in the top, at the back, 
is the “ Resurrection of Lazarus,” the brother of Martha 


and Mary, by Shebonief; above, in the pediment, 
287 


bebbbbbbrbbbbbbbbtbbhh bbe 


“© Mary at the feet of Christ,” by the same artist; on 
the side wall ‘* Jesus casting out a devil,” “ The wedding 
at Cana,”’ and “ Christ saving St. Peter on the waters; ”’ 
—all by Shebonief, as also, on the other side, is the 
great painting in the attic representing ** Jesus restoring 
to life the Son of the Widow of Nain,” and that in 
the pediment, “ Jesus calling little children to Him.” 
The side wall contains various miracles of Christ, by 
Alexeief, —“‘ The Healing of the Paralytic,” “ The 
Repentant Woman,” “ The Healing of the Blind.” 
Another transept —for the church, divided into three 
naves along its length, is divided by five others in its 
breadth — contains paintings by different artists: 
“¢ Joseph receiving his Brethren in Egypt,”’ by Markof, 
is a vast composition which fills up the whole of the 
attic ; ‘¢ Jacob on his death-bed blessing his Sons,” is 
represented in the pediment ; this painting is the work 
of Steuben. On the three panels of these walls, accord- 
ing to the division I have adopted, follow Pluchart’s 
“© Aaron’s Sacrifice,” ‘‘ Joshua reaching the Promised 
Land,” and “ Gideon finding the Fleece.” On the 
attic opposite the painting of “ Joseph receiving his 
Brethren,” is Alexeief’s “« Crossing of the Red Sea,’? — 


a tumultuous, disorderly composition, the action in 


288 


it 
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ie 
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ib 
{ie 
ib 
ib 
FL ad 
tb 
ie 
{te 
i 
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kéeeeeter 


which is somewhat too violent for mural painting; it is 
difficult to make out the subject, owing to the multipli- 
city of figures, especially as the background is unfavour- 
able. Above, “The Destroying Angel slaying the 


9 


First-born of Egypt;” the latter painting is also by 
Alexeief. Pluchart’s “ Moses saved from the Nile,” 
“ The Burning Bush,” and “« Moses and Aaron before 
Pharaoh,” adorn one of the walls; the other is orna- 
mented by paintings representing “ Miriam singing the 
praises of God,” “‘ Jehovah giving the Tables of the 
Law to Moses on Mount Sinai,” and “ Moses dictating 
his Last Will,” by Zavialof. 

At each end of the lateral naves on the right and 
left of the door, rises a cupola. In the first, Riss has 
painted in the vaulting the “Apotheosis of St. Fev- 
ronia,” surrounded by angels bearing palms and instru- 
ments of torture such as torches, faggots, and swords. 
In the pendentives, on a golden background in imita- 
tion of mosaics, the prophets Hosea, Joel, Haggai, and 
Zechariah. Within the arches historical and devotional 
subjects, among others “* Minine and Pozarsky,” names 
which make every patriotic Russian heart beat high. 
I may be allowed to devote a few lines to this painting, 


since it is not sufficient, especially for readers who are 


VOL. I— 19 | 289 


eco abe he oh ob oe oe bee cdece desde decks cbeclede oe deck 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


not Russians, to merely mention the titles, as one may 
do with a scene drawn from Holy Scripture, which 
every Christian knows, whatever the communion to 
which he belongs. 

Kiniaz Pozarsky and Minine the moujik have re- 
solved to save their country, which the Poles threaten 
to invade; they are preparing to start, and are advanc- 
ing at the head of their troops, the nobility and the 
people clasping hands in the person of these two 
heroes, who, desiring to place their enterprise under the 
protection of God, have caused to be borne before them 
by the clergy the holy image of our Lady of Kazan, 
upon which, as a sign of approval, falls a beam from on 
high. , Men, women, children, old men, people of every 
age and every condition, prostrate themselves in the 
snow as the procession goes by. At the back are seen 
palisades and the crenelated walls and towers of the 
Kremlin. 

The other pediment shows Dimitri-Donskoi kneel- 
ing on the threshold of the monastery and receiving the 
blessing of St. Sergius Rodonej, accompanied by his 
monks, before he goes to defeat the Tartars under 
Mamai, near Koulikovo. 


The subject of the third painting is Ivan III, show- 


290 


deobcb ch b ch chk ch cbc decade hook 


Ce eTe wee ae WTe wre ee re 


S/T. WS ACAGGaS 


ing to St. Peter, the Metropolitan, the plans of the Ca- 
thedral of the Assumption at Moscow; the holy man 
appears to approve of them and to call down the bless- 
ing of Heaven upon the pious founder. ‘The fourth 
vault is filled with a council of apostles, upon whom 
the Holy Ghost is descending. 

In the companion cupola are seen the following 
paintings, all by Riss: on the ceiling the ‘ Apothe- 


bd 


osis of St. Isaac of Dalmatia;”’ on the pendentives, 
Jonas, Nahum, Habbakuk, and Sophronia; the arches 
contain subjects relating to the introduction of Chris- 
tianity into Russia: ‘ Vladimir asked to embrace the 
Christian faith,’ ‘The Baptism of Vladimir,’ “ The 
Baptism of the Inhabitants of Kief,” “ The Publication 
of the adoption of Christianity by Vladimir.” ‘These 
cupolas are ornamented with an [Ionic order. ‘The 
paintings themselves, cleverly composed, are executed 
somewhat too much like historical paintings ; the artist, 
seeking for effects, has not remembered sufficiently the 
conditions of mural painting; scenes which are framed 
within arches or architectural divisions should be toned 
down rather than dramatised, and approach poly- 
chrome dassi-relievi. A painter working in a church or 


a palace should above all be a decorator, and sacrifice 


291 


sho eek be aba oe ce cba cbecbeccbecdecde cece eco ade oh doce 


ee Tae tes Ses ee oe 

TRAVEUSSEN tKRheSoaae 
his own self-love to the general effect of the monument ; 
his work must be connected with it so as to be unde- 
tachable. ‘The great Italian masters, in their frescoes, 
so different from their paintings, have understood better 
than the masters of other nations this particular aspect 
of art. ‘This reproach is not addressed to Riss in par- 
ticular; it applies in varying degrees to most of the 
artists charged with the decoration of St. Isaac’s, who 
have not always made the sacrifices of execution called 
for by mural painting. 

The blocks of masonry against which the pillars and 
pilasters are placed, are, like the walls, decorated with 
subjects by different artists; these paintings are placed 
in niches, with brackets and cartouches containing in- 
scriptions. In these niches de Neff has painted “ The 
Ascension,” ‘ Jesus Christ sending His Portrait to 
Abgarus,” ‘The Elevation of the Cross,” “The 
Birth of the Virgin,” “The Presentation in the Tem- 
ple,’ “The Intercession of the Virgin,” ‘The De- 
scent of the Holy Ghost.” These paintings are full 
of feeling and colour, and may be counted among the 
most satisfactory in the church. Steuben has painted 
“© St. Joachim and St. Anne,” “The Birth of St. John 
the Baptist,’ “The Entry into Jerusalem,” ‘“ The 


292 


ttetebeebetcetetettttetttes 


Crucifixion,” “The Entombment,” “ The Resurrec- 
tion,” and “The Assumption of the Virgin.” Mussini’s 
work consists of : “The Annunciation,” The Birth of 
Jesus,” “The Circumcision,” “The Purification of 
the Virgin,’ ‘The Baptism of Christ,’ and ‘ The 
Transfiguration.” 

All the paintings in St. Isaac’s are in oils. Fresco 
painting does not suit damp climates, and its boasted 
permanence does not resist the wear of two or three 
centuries, as is unfortunately proved by the more or 
less extensive state of deterioration of the greater num- 
ber of masterpieces, the authors of which hoped would 
remain ever fresh and bright. Encaustic painting 
might have been resorted to, of course, but it is diffi- 
cult to execute; painters are not well acquainted with 
it, and but rarely turn it to account. In addition, the 
wax is apt to shine in the parts which have been well 
worked over; and the experiments made with it are 
all too recent to base judgments upon as regards the 
durable qualities of the process. De Montferrand was 
therefore wise in preferring oils for the paintings in St. 
Isaac’s. 

Now let us come to the Ikonostas, that wall covered 


with holy images set in gold which conceals the secrets 


203 


SELLA ALLE bbb bebe bok 
TRAVEDUSAIN Kw Soa 


of the sanctuary. “Those of my readers who have seen 
the gigantic retables in Spanish churches will have 
some idea of the development which Greek worship 
gives to this part of the church. 

The architect has raised his [konostas up to the attic, 
so that it is connected with the order of the edifice and 
is not out of harmony with the colossal proportions of 
the monument of which it fills up the whole end from 
one wall to the other. It is a temple facade within a 
temple. The lower portion is formed of three steps 
of red porphyry. ‘The division line between the priests 
and the congregation is marked by a balustrade of white 
marble, with gilded pilasters, encrusted and inlaid with 
precious marbles. “The wall of the Ikonostas is built 
of the finest Italian marbles, making a background 
which would be rich anywhere else, but which here 
disappears almost completely under the most gorgeous 
ornamentation. 

Eight fluted malachite columns of the Corinthian 
order, with gilded bronze bases and capitals, and two 
engaged pilasters, form the facade and support the attic. 
The colour of the malachite, its metallic brilliancy, 
its green coppery tints, strangely attractive to the eye, 


its perfect hard stone polish, surprise by their beauty 


2.94 


and magnificence. At first it is impossible to believe 
in the reality of such luxury, for malachite is used only 
for tables, vases, coffers, bracelets, and jewelry, while 
these pillars, as well as the pilasters that accompany 
them, are forty-two feet high. The plates of malachite 
cut out of the block by circular saws, invented on pur- 
pose, are joined so accurately that they look like mono- 
liths resting upon bronze bases, supported upon iron 
cylinders cast in one piece, on which rests the lower 
portion of the attic. 

There are three doors in the Ikonostas. ‘The centre 
one leads into the sanctuary ; the two others into the 
chapels of St. Catherine and St. Alexander Nevsky. 
The order is thus distributed: a pilaster in the corner, 
a pillar, then the chapel door, next three pillars, the 
main entrance, three other pillars, the chapel door, a 
pillar, and a pilaster. “The wall is divided by these 
pillars and pilasters into spaces which form frames, and 
which are filled with paintings on gold backgrounds, in 
imitation of mosaics. [hey are the models for the 
real mosaics themselves, which are gradually replacing 
the paintings. From the substructure to the cornice 
there are two superimposed rows of frames, separated 


by a secondary cornice broken by the pillars, and which 


295 


ketteeteeetetettttetetts 
TRAVELS #EN Ress 


rests, over the centre gate, upon two small pillars of 
lapis-lazuli, and over the chapel doors upon pilasters 
of white statuary marble. Above runs an attic cut by 
pilasters overlaid with porphyry, jasper, agate, malachite, 
and other native precious materials; it is decorated 
with gilded bronze ornaments, the richness and splen- 
dour of which are not surpassed by any retable in Italy 
or Spain. ‘The pilasters placed over the pillars form 
compartments, which are also filled with paintings on a 
gold background. 

A fourth story, in the shape of a pediment, rises 
above the line of the attic and ends in a great gilded 
group of angels in adoration at the foot of the Cross, 
on either side of which an angel kneels in prayer; it is 
by Vitali. In the centre a painting by Givago repre- 
sents ‘“* Jesus Christ in the Garden of Olives,” accept- 
ing the cup of bitterness during that funereal watch 
when His dearest apostles fell asleep. Immediately 
helow it, two great angels in high relief, holding sacred 
vases, their silvery wings fluttering, their tunics flowing 
in many swelling folds, accompanied by little angels in 
less high relief, which sink into the wall, are placed by 
the side of a larger panel representing “The Last Sup- 
per,” half in painting and half in bas-relief. “The 


296 


thtbbebredbttddtbtbtdtdte 
SETS ATATGS 


figures are painted; while the background, gilded all 
over, represents, with skilfully arranged flat surfaces, 
the room in which took place the Paschal love-feast. 
This painting is also by Givago. 

Under the arch of the door, adorned with a semi- 
circular inscription in Slavic characters, rises a group 
thus arranged: in the centre, Christ, the eternal high- 
priest according to the order of Melchisedec, is seated 
upon a richly adorned throne; in one hand He holds 
the orb of the world, represented by a globe of lapis- 
lazuli, and with the other makes the gesture of conse- 
cration ; around His head is an aureole; His garments 
are of gold; the angels crowd behind, and at His feet 
are lying the winged lion and the symbolical ox. On 
the right follows the Blessed Virgin, on the left St. John 
the Precursor; this group, which breaks through the 
cornice, presents a remarkable peculiarity: the figures 
are in high relief, with the exception of the heads and 
hands, that are painted upon a plate of silver or other 
metal, cut out in contour; this mingling of Byzantine 
ikon-work with sculpture produces an extraordinarily 
powerful effect, and it isafter a careful examination only 
that one observes that the faces and the bare parts of the 


body are seen to be not in relief. The gilded reliefs were 


297 


TRAV: EES N RSG Sipe 
modelled by Klodt, the flats were painted by de Neff. 


By an insensible gradation, patriarchs, apostles, kings, 
saints, martyrs, just men, the pious multitude which 
forms the court and the army of Christ, and the groups 
which fill the spaces of the archivolt, are connected 
with the central subject. These latter figures are 
merely painted upon the gilded background. 

The arches of the side doors bear on top, by way of 
ornament, the Tables of the Law, and a chalice of 
marble and gold, surrounded by rays, and accompanied 
by little painted angels. 

When the sacred door which is in the centre of that 
vast facade of gold, silver, lapis-lazuli, malachite, jasper, 
porphyry, agate, — a wonderful jewel-casket, containing 
all the riches which human magnificence, unhampered 
by the thought of expense, can collect, — when, I say, 
that sacred door mysteriously closes its leaves of silver- 
gilt, chiselled, wrought out, carved, which are no less 
than thirty-five feet high by fourteen feet wide, one 
perceives through a blaze of light in ribbon frames, 
the most marvellous that ever surrounded the work of 
the brush, paintings representing the busts of the four 
Evangelists, with the angel Gabriel and the Blessed 
Virgin full length. When, in the course of worship, 


298 


the sacred gate throws open its broad leaves, a colossal 
Christ, forming the painting in the window at the end 
of the sanctuary, appears amid gold and purple, His 
right hand raised in blessing, in an attitude in which 
modern science is happily united with the majesty of 
Byzantine tradition. Most beautiful, most splendid, is 
this image of the Saviour, illumined by dazzling rays, as 
if it stood in the Heaven perceived through the arch of 
the Ikonostas. ‘The mysterious obscurity which fills 
the church at certain times, increases still more the 
brilliancy and transparency of this magnificent stained- 
glass window, which was executed in Munich. 

These are the main divisions. Now let me describe 
the figures they contain, beginning with the first row 
on the visitor’s right, as he looks at the [konostas. 

First comes Jesus Christ, on a throne of Byzantine 
architecture, the orb in one hand, the other raised in 
blessing ; next, St. Isaac of Dalmatia, unrolling the plan 
of the cathedral. “These two figures are in mosaic on 
backgrounds formed of small crystal cubes, backed with 
ducat gold, producing the warm, rich effect admired in 
St. Sophia’s at Constantinople, and St. Mark’s at Venice. 
St. Michael, bishop of Myra, and patron saint of Russia, 


wearing a brocaded dalmatic, his hand raised and hold- 


299 


bebeotbhbtbteeeettttttttetes 
TRAV BESSEN RSS 


ing a book, fills the third panel. ‘The line is completed 
by St. Peter, who is separated from St. Nicholas by the 
door of the side chapel. All these figures are the work 
of de Neff. On the second row, beginning with the 
group of Jesus Christ in glory, surrounded by the elect, 
the first figure is that of St. Michael overcoming the 
dragon; in the same panel are St. Anne and St. Eliza- 
beth, whose maternity was miraculous. The last com- 
partment contains Constantine the Great, and the 
Empress Helena clad in purple and gold. ‘This series 
is by Theodore Brulof. Following the same order are 
seen on the attic, separated by marble pillars overlaid 
with hard stone, the prophet Isaiah, whose extended 
hand seems to pierce the darkness of the future, Jere- 
miah, with a robe on which are inscribed his lamentations, 
David leaning on his harp, Noah accompanied by the 
rainbow, and finally Adam, the father of mankind, 
painted by Givago. On the left of the sacred door, 
balancing symmetrically the Christ placed on the other 
side, the Blessed Virgin is first seen, with the Child 
Jesus in her lap; this painting is already in mosaic, as 
well as the next panel, which represents St. Alexander 
Nevsky in his armour, with a buckler and the standard 


of the faith, on which is borne the image of Christ. 


300 


ghbbbbbtbbtttdbbbddedddker 
SRLS APA S 


Near St. Alexander Nevsky is St. Catherine, a crown 


on her brow, a palm in her hand, and by her side the 
wheel which was the instrument of her martyrdom. In 
the corner beyond the chapel arch, St. Paul leans on his 
sword. The whole of this series is by de Neff. ‘The 
second series contains St. Nicholas in his stuff robe; St. 
Magdalen and the Czarina Alexandra in the same panel, 
the one marked by a vase of perfume, the other by the 
crown, the sword, and the palm; St. Vladimir and St. 
Olga, recognisable by their imperial costumes; these 
are by Brulof. In the third series come, in the follow- 
ing order, Daniel with the lion, Elijah the prophet, 
King Solomon carrying a model of the T’emple, Mel- 
chisedec, king of Salem, presenting the bread of sacrifice, 
and finally the patriarch Abraham,—all by Givago. 
This rampart of figures, separated by malachite pillars, 
compartments of precious marbles, and richly ornamented 
cornices, produces a magnificent and imposing effect in 
the mysterious penumbra which fills this part of the 
cathedral; occasionally a sunbeam streams upon the 
backgrounds of ruddy gold; a plate lights up, making 
the figure of a saint stand out as if it were living; the 
ray of light flows along the fluting of the malachite, a 


spark rests upon the gilded capital, a wreath is illumined 


301 


SBebeeeeeeeesetetettetetes 
TRAVELS‘AIN RUSSie 


and straightway projects, the painted heads in the gilded 
group acquire a singular life, and resemble those mi- 
raculous imagesin legends, which look, speak, and walk. 
The twinkling tapers cast unexpected luminosity upon 
some detail hitherto concealed, and now suddenly seen 
in its full value. According to the time of day the veil 
of the sanctuary is darkened by warm shadows or illu- 
mined by a splendid blaze. 

On the left of the Ikonostas as one faces it, is the 
chapel placed under the invocation of St. Catherine ; it 
is reached through the Arcade, surmounted by angels 
holding the pyx, which leads into the great Ikonostas 
itself, alongside of the sacred door. The Ikonostas of 
the chapel of St. Catherine, which can be seen from the 
very end of the church, framed within the lateral nave, 
is thus arranged: a facade of white statuary marble, inlaid 
with malachite and adorned with gilded bronze orna- 
ments, bears on the summit of the pediment a gilded 
sculptural group by Pimenef, representing Jesus Christ 
rising from the tomb, to the great terror of the guards; 
in the pediment cherubim display on a cloth the portrait 
of the Saviour, that miraculous imprint which was not 
painted by human hands; the Entombment is on a frieze 


within the archivolt; above the door is the Last Sup- 


302 


chee trate oo sle ae oke ce abe che cde oe obec 


per ; the leaves of the door itself are ornamented with 
four heads of Evangelists, the angel Gabriel, and the 
Virgin Mary. In the first panel on the right is Christ 
holding the open Gospels; in the panel above is St. 
Catherine with her usual attributes, the crown, the 
palm, and the wheel; on the left panel the Holy Vir- 
gin of Vladimir forms a companion to the Christ ; 
above is the martyrdom of St. Anastasia, bound to the 
pile; over the right door, which is cut in cant, is the 
Emperor Constantine, wearing a crown and a robe of 
gilded brocade covered with eagles; in the upper com- 
partment St. Metrophanius of Voronej, with his cro- 
zier; on the other door the Empress Helena, holding 
a cross, in remembrance ofthe fact that she discovered 
the remains of the True Cross; above, St. Sergius 
Rodone}. 

Within the Ikonostas are painted ‘ Jesus Christ 
blessing the image of the Saviour on linen,” by Pluchart, 
and a ‘“* Madonna” by Chamechine. Opposite the 
window rises the side wall of the great Ikonostas, 
adorned with sculptures and paintings. The brackets 
which support the attic are themselves supported by 
Ionic pilasters of white statuary marble; above the door 


angels worship aradiant chalice, raised on a base adorned 


dead 


ALEAA LAL ALLELES ALLALALL ELA 

DRA V E:LS. SiN RS Sie 
with three cherubs’ heads. On the door itself the arch- 
angel Nicholas, freely copied by Theodore Brulof from 
the St. Michael in the Louvre, is overcoming the 
dragon. On either side are St. Alexis of Moscow 
and St. Peter the Metropolitan, both wearing rich 
sacerdotal vestments. “The second row, formed of 
panels framed in rich mouldings, contains St. Boris, 
and St. Gleba, St. Barnabas, St. John and St. Timothy, 
St. Theodosius and St. Anthony. All these figures are 
painted on gold backgrounds, with a slight archaic 
feeling. 

The ceiling of the dome represents “ the Assump- 
tion of the Virgin; ” the pendentives contain St. John 
Damascus, St. Cyril of Jerusalem, St. Clement, and 
St. Ignatius. In the recesses of the arches, Bassine, 
the painter of the mural work in this chapel, has rep- 
resented the martyrdom of St. Catherine, that of St. 
Dimitri, that of St. George, and St. Barbara renouncing 
the world. 

On the other side of the great Ikonostas, forming a 
companion to the chapel of St. Catherine, is the 
chapel of St. Alexander Nevsky, the Ikonostas in — 
which is arranged in exactly the same way: the 


pediment is crowned with a gilded group of Jesus 


304 


SLAELAALLALLALLLAALALLALALLS 
SL. 1S AtAGsS 


on Mount ‘Tabor, by Pimenef; below, cherubim 
display a drapery on which is inscribed an inscription 
in Slavic letters; on the frieze is painted “Christ 
bearing His cross;” in the archivolt, “The Last 
Supper; on the pediment the four Evangelists, and 
“ The Annunciation,” with the angel Gabriel and the 
Virgin Mary; on the right of the door, “ Christ 
calling little children ;”? the upper compartment con- 
tains St. Alexander Nevsky in his armour; on the back 
wall, on the same line, is the Czarevich, a young child 
supported by angels that bear him to heaven; below 
is St. Vladimir, wearing a crown and a brocade dress, 
and carrying a Greek cross; on the left the Blessed 
Virgin with the Child Jesus; above, St. Spiridion; on 
the cant wall St. Michael of Tver, in armour, and St. 
Olga in imperial costume, pressing a small cross to her 
breast. The figures on this Ikonostas are the work 
of Maikof. Within the Ikonostas there is a “ Christ 
blessing,” by Pluchart, and ‘¢ The Nativity,” by 
Chamchine. The ceiling of the cupola represents 
Jehovah in glory, surrounded by a circle of angels and 
cherubim ; in the pendentives are painted St. Nicodemus, 
St. Joseph, the husband of the Virgin, St. James the 
Less, called the brother of Christ, and Joseph of 


— 


VOL. I—20 305 


BEEP SESS SSeS etttttttttst 
TRAVELS;AEN RKiGaote 


Arimathea. The pediments of the arches are filled 
with scenes from the life of St. Alexander Nevsky, to 
whom the chapel is dedicated: in one he is praying 
for the fatherland; in another he is winning a battle 
over the Swedes, his white horse rearing in the centre 
of the mélée; in a third, stretched out on his deathbed, 
he is dying like a Christian, between the burning can- 
dles and the priests repeating prayers; in the fourth 
his remains are being borne to their last resting-place, 
on a catafalque placed on a boat. These paintings, as 
well as the mural paintings in the chapel of St. Cathe. 
rine, are by Pietro Bassine. 

The wall of the principal Ikonostas, which closes 
the chapel of St. Alexander Nevsky on this side, is 
arranged and ornamented in exactly the same way, 
save that above the door the chalice is replaced by the 
Tables of the Law. 

On the door itself ‘Theodore Brulof has painted the 
angel Gabriel, and in the impost, Moses between the 
prophets Samuel and Elisha. The two neighbouring 
panels contain St. Polycarpus and St. ‘Taraisius, St. 
Methodius, and St. Cyril, the apostle of the Slavs; the 
panels on either side of the door, St. Philip, and St. 
Jonas, Metropolitan of Moscow. All these figures, 


306 


tktebetertetttetetttttttes 
SPS 31S AtAiGis | 


on gilded backgrounds and in modernised Byzantine 
style, are by Dorner. 

I have now to describe the Holy of Hollies, hidden 
from the eyes of the faithful by the screen of gold, 
malachite, lapis-lazuli, and agate of the Ikonostas. 
Rarely does one penetrate within the mysterious and 
sacred place in which the secret rites of the Greek 
worship are celebrated. It is a sort of hall or choir, 
lighted by a stained-glass window, in which blazes a 
giant Christ, which is seen from the other end of the 
Church when the sanctuary gates are open. “Two 
of the walls are formed by the interior faces of the 
decorated walls which I have just described; on the 
south, at the back of the door, St. Lawrence holds 
the gridiron, the instrument of his martyrdom, St. 
Basil the great, St. Gregory Nazianzen, are repre- 
sented in the side compartments. The attic, divided 
into three frames, has in the first St. Gregory Dia- 
lagos, and St. Ephrem of Syria; in the second, 
above the door, St. Gregory of Nyssa, St. Samson, 
and St. Eusebius; in the third, St. Cosmo and St. 
Damian. Dorner, the Bavarian artist, painted the 
figures on the upper row, Moldavsky those on the 


lower. 


Se/ 


ttttttteteeetetbttrt¢tets 
DRA VE USAEIN, RASS 


The northern wall accurately reproduces this ar- 
rangement: St. Stephen is painted above the door; on 
either side are St. John Chrysostom and St. Athana- 
sius of Alexandria, by Moldavsky. Dorner painted the 
upper row, which contains Alexis, the man in God, St. 
John Climax, St. Tycho of Amathontis, St. Pantalei- 
mon, St. Methodius, St. Anthony, and St. Theodore 
of Kiev. 

Behind the Ikonostas is seen the image of Christ, 
imprinted on the cloth held out by St. Veronica ; it is 
by de Neff. Above the organ case, “¢ Christ blessing 
the holy Offerings,” by Chamchine. On the ceiling 
Bruni has painted a Holy Ghost, with angels ; and on 
the three sides of the attic, “ Ihe Washing of Feet,” 
“¢ Jesus Christ giving the Keys to St. Peter,” “ Jesus 
manifesting Himself to the Apostles,” — compositions 
in excellent style and filled with the truest religious 
feeling. 

The altar, of white statuary marble, is of the noblest 
simplicity. “The tabernacle is formed of a model of 
the church of St. Isaac’s, of silver-gilt, and of great 
weight; the model has a number of details which are 
not found in the actual building, for instance: the 


buttresses supporting the campaniles are adorned with 


308 


bob ob wre ewe ote Fe ore abe obec che cho ols He Une ore re ch heel 
ISAACS 


great groups in relief, like those on the Arc de V Etoile ; 
and the attic, which is plain in the actual build- 
ing, shows in the model a series of bassi-relievi, the 
effect of which would have been pleasing, it seems 
to me. 

I have not mentioned here and there within the church, 
a number of medallions or compartments set in the 
vaultings and soffits; they are badly lighted, difficult to 
see, and have no other than a decorative value. They 
represent angels bearing sacred attributes, by Cham- 
chine; Elijah, Enoch, Faith, Hope, Charity, Wisdom, 
Love, by Maikof. I merely mention them in order 
that my work may be complete. 

Now that I have described, with all the care of which 
I am capable, the exterior and interior of St. Isaac’s, let 
me sketch with a freer and bolder brush some of the 
effects of light and shade in the vast interior. “There 
is a certain lack of light in St. Isaac’s, or at least the 
light is unequally distributed. The cupola casts a 
flood of light upon the centre of the cathedral, and the 
four great windows sufficiently illumine the cupolas 
situated in the four corners of the edifice; but other 
portions remain obscure, or at least are lighted only at 


certain hours of the day, and by passing incidental beams. 


Sea? 


ttbbbbbbbbbtbbbbbbdbhh bobs 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


ee ns mee eee me nt 


_- 


This defect was intentional, for nothing was easier than 


to cut windows in the building, which is clear on all 
sides. ‘The architect preferred this mysterious twilight, 
favourable to religious impressions and to prayer; but he 
seems to have forgotten that this penumbra, which ac- 
cords very well with Romanesque, Byzantine, or Gothic 
architecture, is less appropriate in a building in the clas- 
sical style, which is meant to be well lighted, and which 
is covered with precious marbles, gilded ornaments, 
mural paintings, that ought to be visible and that one 
wishes to see after performing one’s devotions, A 
number of the paintings were executed in great part by 
lamplight, a fact which in itself condemns the position 
they are placed in, It would have been easy, in my 
opinion, to conciliate everything, and to have in turn 
the necessary bright light or shadow by means of win- 
dows, which could have been closed with shutters, 
hangings, or opaque blinds; religion would have been 
no loser, while art would have been the gainer. If 
there are long summer days in St, Petersburg, there 
are also long winter nights which encroach upon the 
day time, and during which there falls from heaven but 
a scanty light, 


Tam bound to say, however, that striking effects result 


ee 


310 
ET 


abe che oats che cde be abe abe obec eae oboe 
ISAAC’S 


from these alternations of shadow and brightness. When 
one beholds at the end of the obscure naves the chapels 
of St. Alexander Nevsky and St. Catherine, the white 
marble Ikonostases of which, adorned with gilded bronze, 
inlaid with malachite and agate, overlaid with paintings 
upon golden backgrounds, are illumined by a great 
lateral window, the brilliancy of these facades, framed 


in by the dark vaulting, which helps to set them off 


125 
is positively dazzling. The great stained-glass Christ 
window glows in the penumbra with marvellous inten- 
sity of colour. ‘The softened light does not injure the 
isolated figures, the sharp contours of which stand out 
against the golden background. The brilliancy of the 
metal always brings a figure out sufficiently, but in a 
composition with multiple groups and natural back- 
grounds, the case is not always the same. Many inter~ 
esting details escape, even when glasses are used. 
Byzantine churches, or rather, to speak more accurately, 
churches in the Greco-Russian style, in which reigns 
that religious mysteriousness which de Montferrand 
sought to obtain in St. Isaac’s, do not contain paintings 
properly so called; the walls are covered with decora- 
tive paintings, and figures drawn without any striving 


after effect or illusion, upon a flat gold or coloured back- 


311 


chee cheb oe abe de ok oh abe oe ede check tee che ooh oh choc 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


ground, in conventional attitudes, with unchanging 
attributes, expressed by simple lines and flat tints, 
clothing the edifice as with a rich tapestry, the general 
tone of which satisfies the eye. Iam aware that the 
architect urged the artists charged with the paintings 
for St. Isaac’s, to make use of broad masses, bold 
strokes, and a decorative manner, —a piece of advice 
much easier to give than to follow, in view of the style 
of architecture that has been adopted. Each artist has 
done his best according to his temperament, but his 
talent unconsciously yielded to the modern character of 
the church, except on the various Ikonostases, on 
which the figures, isolated or placed side by side in 
golden panels, stand out strongly and assume those 
sharp contours which painting needs when it is in- 
tended to ornament a building. 

Bruni’s compositions, the subject of which I have 
mentioned as they occurred in the description of the 
church, are noteworthy for the deep feeling of style 
and their really historical manner, due to profound and 
thoughtful study of Italian masters. I insist upon this 
quality, for it is disappearing with us as elsewhere. 
Ingres and his school are the last representatives of it. 


A certain piquancy of anecdote, a too curious striving 


312 


ie 
ie 
ie 
ie 
ab 
i> 
i> 


abe obs abe ob cba che olde obs che obs obs obs che ole obs abe ofe 


OTe oFo OTe wFe we wo Ve ore ow 


Sh. YSAAGS 


after effects and details, the fear lest too much austerity 
should compromise success, prevent modern works 
from having that stamp of masterly gravity which in 
past ages even second-rate paintings possessed. Bruni | 
maintains the great traditions ; he has drawn _his inspi- 
ration from the frescoes in the Sistine Chapel and 
the Vatican; and besides his own personal feelings, he 
mingles with that inspiration something of the deep 
and thoughtful manner peculiar to the German school. 
It is plain that if he has long studied Michael Angelo 
and Raphael, he has also looked intelligently at Over- 
beck, Cornelius, and Kaulbach, too little known in 
Paris, and whose works have told more than is gener- 
ally supposed on the schools of contemporary art. He 
meditates, arranges, balances, and thinks out his composi- 
tions, without suffering from the desire to get quickly 
at the painting itself, which makes itself felt nowadays 
in many paintings otherwise very meritorious. With 
Bruni execution is but the means of expressing a 
thought, it is not the end and aim. He knows that 
when the subject has been drawn on the cartoon in 
good style, with nobility and grandeur, the most impor- 
tant part of the art work is done. It may even be said 


that he neglects colour somewhat, and uses in too large 


as 


bebbbbbdh bbb eb dcbchchhbebek ob chet 
TPRAVEDS AN RUSS 


proportion sober, neutral, dull, abstract tints, so to 
speak, due to the fact that he desires to let the idea 
alone stand out strongly. I do not like in historical 
painting what is called illusion ; reality, when too crude, 
life, when too material, disturb those serene compositions, 
in which the images of the objects and not the objects 
themselves are reproduced. Nevertheless, it is wise 
to avoid somewhat, especially in view of the future, 
the dull and dark masses suggested by a study of old 
frescoes. [he paintings which Bruni has executed in 
St. Isaac’s are the most monumental in the church; 
they have more character and maestria. Although he 
is sufficiently acquainted with anatomy to indulge in the 
muscular violence called for by certain subjects, Bruni 
possesses in addition, as a special gift, unction, grace, 
and angelic suavity: approaching Overbeck’s manner, 
his angels, cherubs, and blessed have an extremely 
charming elegance, high-bred air, and poetic look. 
De Neff understood the work intrusted to him 
more as an artist working for a museum than as a 
decorator of the building; but one cannot blame him 
for it. His paintings, which are placed much too close 
to the eye, about breast-high, so to speak, in the niches 


and pilasters which form frames and give to mural 


- 


314 


LEAL AAEALAAALALLALL ALLEL 
Sil. S AVASGES 


painting the aspect of an easel painting, — did not re- 
quire the sacrifice of effect and perspective called for 
by attics, vaulting and cupolas. De Neff has a warm, 
brilliant colour, a clever and accurate execution, which 
recalls Peter de Hess, whose paintings [ saw in Munich. 
“ Jesus sending His portrait to Abgarus,” and ‘“ The 
Empress Helena finding the True Cross,” are remark- 
able works, which might be taken from their places 
without their value being diminished. All the other 
paintings by de Neff, in the niches and pilasters, bear 
the stamp of the master, and reveal a well-endowed 
artist, who has a very accurate feeling of colour and 
chiaroscuro. ‘The single figures he has placed upon 
the Ikonostas, the heads and portions of bare flesh, 
painted by him in the great gilded group which sur- 
mounts the sacred door, have amazing vigour of tone 
and relief; it was difficult to combine more skilfully 
painting and high relief, the work of the brush and 
that of the chisel. Bruni’s paintings for composition 
and style, and de Neff’s for colour and execution, strike 
me as the most satisfactory in their kind. 

Pietro Bassine, whose numerous works prove his 
abundance, his facility, and his practice in decorative 


work, which distinguished the painters of the eighteenth 


62] 


century,— who nowadays have regained the rank 
denied them by David and his school, — Bassine easily 
covers great spaces, and understands what in art is 
called the machine; his compositions are pictures, a 
much rarer talent than people think, and which is 
gradually disappearing. 

The sober, pure, and correct talent of Mussini is 
well known in Paris. He has painted in the niches 
and the pilasters several compositions which conform to 
the reputation he has acquired. Markoff, Zavialoff, 
Pluchart, Sazonoff, Theodore Brulof, Nikitine, She- 
bonieff, also deserve praise for the manner in which 
they have acquitted themselves of their task. 

If I have not pronounced a final judgment on the 
cupola of Charles Brulof, it is because sickness and 
death, as I mentioned when describing his composition, 
carried out by Bassine, prevented his painting it himself 
and giving it the stamp of his own individuality, one of 
the most powerful and most remarkable produced by 
Russian national art. There was in Brulof the stuff 
of a great painter, and, with many defects, genius, 
which makes up for everything. His head, which he 
took pleasure in reproducing several times with the 


increasing pallor and thinness of disease, sparkles with 


316 


ee 


Setetetbitetteeedtttttetes 
So. TUS ArArGrS 


genius; under the wild fair hair and the brow ever 
paler, illumined by eyes in which life is concentrated, 
there was a certainly artistic and poetic thought. 

Now let me sum up in a few lines this long study 
of the Cathedral of St. Isaac of Dalmatia. Unquestion- 
ably, whether the style is or is not approved, it is the 
greatest religious building erected within this century. 
It does honour to de Montferrand, who completed it in 
so short a space of time; he could go down to the 
grave saying to himself with more truth than many a 
proud poet: Exegi monumentum aere perennius, a satis- 
faction rarely granted to architects, whose plans are 
sometimes so long in being carried out, and who be- 
hold the inauguration of the temples they have begun 
only from the spirit world. 

Rapid as was the building of St. Isaac’s, nevertheless 
the time which passed between the laying of the founda- 
tion stone and that of the last stone, was long enough 
for many a change to take place. At the time when 
the plans of the cathedral were received the classical 
taste ruled undivided and uncontradicted ; no other style 
was considered a type of perfection save the Greek 
or Roman. Whatever the genius of man had im- 


agined to carry out the idea of a new religion was 


Sh7 


ALALEADLALDLADAAL AL AAA ELS 
TRAVELSEEN Rss ie 


considered as of no account; Romanesque, Byzantine, 
and Gothic architecture were in bad taste, contrary to 
rule, barbaric, in aword. ‘They had an historical value, 
but unquestionably no one would have thought of 
taking any of them for a model. The Renaissance 
was barely tolerated on account of its love of antiquity, 
to which it added many delightful inventions and charm- 
ing fancies blamed by severe critics. [hen came the 
Romanticist school, which by its enthusiastic study of 
the Middle Ages and the national origins of art, made 
man understand by glowing commentaries the beauties 
of the basilicas, the cathedrals, and the chapels so long 
disdained as the patient work of unintelligent ages 
of faith. Then was discovered a very complete, 
thoroughly thought-out art, perfectly conscious of itself, 
obeying set rules, possessing a complicated and mysteri- 
ous symbolism in buildings as amazing by their size as 
by the finish of their details, and which until then had 
been believed the chance work of ignorant stone-cutters 
and masons. A reaction took place, which soon be- 
came unjust, as does every reaction. The modern 
edifices erected in classical style were considered as 
absolutely devoid of merit, and it may be that more 


than one Russian regrets that in the construction of 


318 


hEEKLALLALLAALEPSEAAALALAL ELS 
ST S AgAKaiS 


this sumptuous temple it was not St. Sophia’s at Con- 
stantinople that was imitated, rather than the Pantheon 
at Rome. This opinion could be easily formed and 
maintained; perhaps to-day it might triumph; I myself 
should not think it at all unreasonable, were the build- 
ing of St. Isaac’s to be begun now. But at the time 
the plans were drawn no architect would have done 
differently from de Montferrand ; any attempt in any 
other direction would have appeared insensate. 

As for myself, putting all systems aside, it appears 
to me that the classical style is best suited to St. Isaac’s, 
the metropolis of the Greek church; the use of conse- 
crated forms which are above fashion and time, which 
cannot become old-fashioned or barbaric, because they 
are eternal, however long the edifice remains standing, — 
were best in a monument of this kind, for they give to 
it a stamp of universality. Known to all civilised 
peoples, these forms can only excite admiration with- 
out surprise and without criticism; and though another 
style might have appeared more local, more picturesque, 
more novel, it would also have had the disadvantage of 
giving rise to contradictory judgments, and perhaps of 
appearing bizarre, an impression absolutely contrary to 


the effect it was desired to produce. The architect did 


mee, 


ttttttettbtettbbttetttes 
TRAV ELSAEN RGSS 


not seek singularity, he sought beauty; and undoubtedly 
St. Isaac’s is the most beautiful of modern churches. 
Its architecture is admirably suited to St. Petersburg, 
the youngest and newest of capital cities. 

It seems to me that those who regret that St. Isaac’s 
is not in the Byzantine style are much like those who 
regret that St. Peter’s at Rome is not in the Gothic 
style. “These great temples, centres of a belief, ought 
to have nothing peculiar, temporary, or local about 
them; the faithful of all ages and of all countries 
must be able to kneel there amid riches, splendour, 


and beauty. 


320 


bbb bbb bbb bebe bd 
red ELS TNR SSTA 


MOSCOW 


HOUGH I found life in St. Petersburg very 
pleasant, I felt the liveliest desire to see the 
real Russian capital, the great Muscovite 

City, a desire which the existence of the railway ren- 
dered easy of fulfilment. I was sufficiently acclimated 
not to fear the journey, with the thermometer at ten be- 
low zero. An opportunity presented itself to proceed to 
Moscow in pleasant company; I clutched its forelock, 
white with frost, and put on my full winter costume, a 
pelisse lined with weasel fur, beaver fur cap, furred 
boots coming above the knee. My trunk was put into 
one sleigh, my carefully enveloped person into another, 
and presently the pair of us reached the vast station, 
waiting for the hour of departure, which was set for 
noon. Russian railways do not pique themselves as 
ours do, however, on being punctual; if an important 
personage is coming the locomotive represses its ardour 
for some minutes—a quarter of an hour even —to 


give the great man more time to arrive. ‘Travellers 


VOL. 1—-2I1 321i 


ee wwe eve 


che oh cle als abs cbs ale abe che all che eral ob cbr cb abel ol cbr ole ofl allo 
RRAVE LS) UN Rage See 


are escorted to the station by their parents and friends, 
and the parting, when the last bell is sounded, involves 
endless handshakes, embraces, and tender words often 
interrupted by tears. Occasionally even, the whole 
company takes tickets, gets into the carriage, and ac- 
companies the departing friend to the next station, 
returning by the next train. I like this custom, which 
strikes me as touching. A painter might have observed 
there, on the faces of moujiks, not very handsome in 
other respects, expressions of pathetic simplicity ; 
mothers and wives, whose son or husband was perhaps 
going away for a long time, recalled by their artless and 
deep grief the holy women with reddened eyes and 
lips contracted by stifled sobs whom the artists of the 
Middle Ages placed upon the Way of the Cross. I 
have seen in various countries, many post-yards, many 
wharves, but I have never seen anywhere such tender 
and desolate farewells as in Russia. 

The installation of a railway train in a country 
where the thermometer falls more than once in the 
course of the winter as low as twenty below zero, is 
necessarily different from that which suffices in tem- 
perate climates. The tin hot-water bottles in use with — 


us would soon freeze under the traveller’s feet, and 


322 


these warming pans would turn into blocks of ice. 
The air filtering through the joints of the doors and 
windows would bring colds, pneumonia, and rheuma- 
tism in its train. The carriages are vestibuled, so that 
travellers can pass from one to another; they form a 
sort of apartment, with an antechamber, with toilet, 
where the hand luggage is placed. “The antechamber 
opens on a platform surrounded by a_ balustrade, 
reached by steps, — far more convenient unquestionably 
than the steps of our own carriages. 

Stoves chock-full of wood, heat the compartment, 
and keep the temperature up to between sixty-six and 
seventy degrees. [he windows are padded with felt, 
which prevents any filtering in of cold air, and keep in 
the heat; soa trip from St. Petersburg to Moscow in 
the month of January, in a temperature the mere state- 
ment of which would make a Parisian shiver and his 
teeth chatter, is not particularly Arctic: certainly 
one would suffer more in travelling at the same time 
of year between Burgos and Valladolid. 

Around the first carriage ran a broad divan for the 
use of sleepers and. people who do not fear to cross 
their legs'in Oriental fashion. I preferred this divan to 


the well-upholstered, springy arm-chairs of the second 


324 


RLALCEAAE LASSE Appt tttes 
ERAVEBSANYRGS oe 


carriage, and installed myself comfortably in a corner. 
I seemed, when I had settled down, to be living in a 
house on wheels, instead of having to suffer the incon- 
venience of a carriage; I could rise, walk, pass from 
one room to another, with the same freedom as 
a passenger on a steamer,——a freedom which the 
poor wretch in a stage-coach, post-coach, or a railway- 
carriage such as are still used in France, lacks entirely. 

To reserve my place, I marked it by putting down my 
hand-bag upon it. As the train was not ready to start 
I walked along the platform, and was quickly attracted 
by the curious funnel of the engine, shaped like the 
funnels used for filtering liquor, so that it resembles 
Venetian chimneys, the flaring tops of which stand out 
so picturesquely above the rosy walls in Canaletto’s 
paintings. 

Russian locomotives burn wood, and not coal as do 
ours and those of other Western countries; birch and 
pine logs are piled symmetrically on the tender, and 
are renewed at the wood-yards of the various stations, 
so that the peasants say that at the rate at which things 
are going on, it will soon become necessary in holy 
Russia to use the round logs of which the isbas (peas- 


ants’ houses) are built, to feed the stoves; but before 


324 


bebbbbbetbbtdbbbbt dtd thet 
MOSCOW 


the forests are cut down, —those, at least, which are 


not too far from the railways, — engineers will have 
discovered, by means. of borings, veins of anthracite or 
soft coal; for the virgin soil must certainly conceal 
inexhaustible riches. 

We start at last, leaving on our right, along the old 
land road, the Moscow triumphal arch, of grand and 
proud outline, and the last houses of the city, more and 
more wide-spread, are flying by with their wooden 
fences and wooden walls painted in the old Russian 
fashion, their green roofs silvered with snow; for the 
farther one goes from the centre, the buildings, which 
in the finer quarters follow the style of those in Berlin, 
London, or Paris, resume the national character. St. 
Petersburg begins to disappear, but the golden dome of 
St. Isaac’s, the spire of the Admiralty, the pyramidions 
of the Guards’ Church, the domes of starry azure, and 
the bulbous tin roofs, still sparkle on the horizon, re- 
sembling a Byzantine crown placed upon a cushion of 
silver brocade. The houses of men seem to sink into 
the ground, the houses of God to spring heavenward. 

While I gazed the glass of the window was being 
covered, as a consequence of the difference between the 


cold exterior air and the warm interior atmosphere, 


325 


chock chee che eck ch echo ecbecbe cde de ctece e eck 
TRA V.E'LS EN) PRG Soe 


with delicate ramifications of the colour of quicksilver, 
which soon crossing their branches spread in broad 
leaves, forming a magic forest and so dimming the 
pane that the view of the landscape was totally inter- 
cepted. Certainly nothing can be prettier than these 
branches, arabesques, and filigree-work of ice, so deli- 
cately traced by the finger of Winter. It is a part of 
the poetry of the North, and imagination can easily 
discover in it an hyperborean mirage; yet after looking 
at them for an hour or so one becomes impatient of the 
white embroidered veil, that prevents both your being 
seen and seeing. Curiosity is annoyed at feeling that 
behind the ground glass there is passing a whole world 
of unknown aspects, which perhaps will never again 
meet the gaze. In France I should unhesitatingly 
have lowered the window. In Russia it might have 
proved a fatal imprudence: the cold, which is always 
watching its prey, would have pushed into the carriage 
its mysterious Polar paw, and have smitten me in the 
face. In the open air one can contend with it, as with 
a fierce but none the less loyal and generous though 
rough enemy ; but one must not allow it to penetrate 
within. Neither the door nor the window must be 


half open, for then it wages a deadly battle against 


Dennen ee 


heat; it pierces it with its icy darts, and if one of these 
were to strike you in the side, you would find it 
difficult to recover from the wound. 

Nevertheless, I had to do something, for it would 
have been painful to be taken from St. Petersburg to 
Moscow in a box, with a square of milky whiteness 
preventing my seeing anything outside. I am _ not, 
thank God, like the Englishman who caused himself 
to be taken from London to Constantinople with a 
bandage over his eyes, to be taken off only when he | 
entered the Golden Horn, so that he might enjoy 
abruptly, and without any enfeebling transition, that 
unrivalled and splendid panorama. So, pulling my fur 
cap down to my eyes, turning up the collar of my 
pelisse, which I drew close around me, pulling up my 
boots, and drawing on my hands huge mittens, —a 
regular Samoyede costume, — I proceeded bravely to 
the platform on the front of the carriage. A veteran, 
in a military overcoat, bearing several medals, stood 
there watching the speed of the train, apparently insen- 
sible to the cold. A small tip of a silver rouble, which 
he did not ask for but which he did not refuse, oblig- 
ingly induced him to turn towards another part of the 


horizon while I lighted an excellent cigar purchased at 


327 


LEELLALLALLELALALLAER EL ES 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


Eliseief’s, and which I drew from a box with a glass 
top which allows one to see the goods without having 
to break the Treasury stamp. 

I was soon forced to throw away that genuine 
Havana de la Vuelta de Abajo, for while it was burning 
at one end it was freezing at the other; the ice glued 
it to my lips, a portion of which remained stuck to the 
cigar every time I removed it from my mouth. It is 
almost impossible to smoke in the open air when the 
temperature is ten below zero; and it is not difficult to 
obey the ukase which forbids pipe and cigar smoking 
outside. ‘The prospect unfolded before me was, be- 
sides, interesting enough to compensate for this slight 
privation. 

As far as the eye could reach the earth was covered 
with a cold covering of snow, the white folds of which 
faintly outlined the form of objects, somewhat as a 
shroud outlines the body it conceals. Roads, foot-paths, 
rivers, boundary marks of all kinds had vanished; noth- 
ing was visible but depressions and elevations not easily 
noticed in the general whiteness; the course of the 
frozen streams could only be told by a sort of valley 
meandering through the snow, and often entirely filled 


by it. Here and there emerged the leafless tops of 


328 


half-buried clumps of reddish birch; a few huts built 
of round logs and covered with snow sent up smoke 
and made dark spots upon the uniformly white surface. 
Along the railway showed lines of brushwood, planted 
in several rows, and intended to break, in its horizon- 
tal course, the white, icy snow, which is carried along 
with terrific impetuosity by blizzards, the khamsins of 
the Pole. It is impossible to imagine the strange, sad 
grandeur of that vast white landscape, which looks as 
does the pale moon seen through a telescope; one 
seems to be in a dead planet, petrified forever by eter- 
nal cold. “The mind cannot believe that so amazing a 
quantity of snow can ever melt, be evaporated, or pro- 
ceed to the sea in the swelling waters of the rivers, and 
that a spring day will make these Polar plains green 
and blooming. A low sky of uniform gray, which the 
whiteness of the earth caused to appear yellow, in- 
creased the melancholy of the landscape. A deep 
silence, broken only by the roar of the train on the 
rails, reigned over the solitude of the country, for snow 
deadens every sound with its ermine carpet. No living 
figure was to be seen upon the desert waste, no trace 
of man or animals, — the former were snugly ensconced 


by their isba fires, the animals within their dens. 


betbebtebttebetebbttttededaed 


TRAVELESYIN “RUSSTA 


Only, when drawing near a station, were to be seen 
issuing from some fold in the snow, sleighs and kibit- 
kas, drawn at a gallop by little, long-maned horses, 
travelling across the fields, careless of the roads, which 
had disappeared, and coming from some unperceived 
village to meet travellers. In my compartment there 
were some young noblemen going out hunting, and 
wearing for the occasion handsome, brand-new tulupes, 
of a pale salmon colour, relieved by embroideries form- 
ing graceful arabesques. The tulupe is a sort of 
sheepskin caftan with the wool inside, as furs are always 
worn in really cold countries; it is fastened to the 
shoulder by a button, and bound around the waist by a 
belt; with an astrakhan cap, boots of white felt, and 
a hunting-knife in the belt, it forms a costume of the 
most Asiatic elegance. Although this is the moujik 
dress, noblemen do not hesitate to wear it under such 
circumstances, for it is the most commodious and best 
suited to the climate. Besides, the difference between 
a Clean, soft tulupe, dressed like a glove, and the dirty, 
greasy, shining tulupe of the moujik, is thought sufficient 
to prevent any misunderstanding. 

The birch and fir woods seen on the horizon, on 


which they show as a brown line, are inhabited by 


nr 


mfg 


memo we ee 


ALADLA ALL ALLAPALALLLALLALLL ALLS 
MOSCOW 


wolves, bears, and sometimes, it is said, by elks, — the 
wild and fierce game of the North, the pursuit of which 
is not without peril, and which calls for agile, robust, 
and courageous Nimrods. 

A troika drawn by three splendid horses, was 
awaiting these young noblemen at one of the stations, 
and I saw them disappear in the distance with a 
rapidity in no wise inferior to that of the locomotive, 
travelling along the road completely covered up by snow, 
but marked at intervals by poles; at the rate they were 
going I soon lost sight of them. They were to meet 
their hunting companions at a chateau, the name of 
which I have forgotten, and reckoned on being more 
fortunate than the two fools in La Fontaine’s fable, 
who sold the bear’s skin before they had killed the ani- 
mal; these young gentlemen expected to kill a bear, to 
keep the skin and to make out of it one of those rugs 
with scarlet border and stuffed head, on which new- 
comers never fail to stumble in the drawing-rooms of 
St. Petersburg. Their calm, deliberate air made me 
feel certain that they would prove successful. 

I shall not mention the various places past which 
the railway runs, for they would not interest my 


readers. [hese towns and villages are usually unim- 


Soe 


kRebetebtteetetettttetetes 
PRAVELS/I NVR USSTe 


portant, and are often quite distant from the railway ; 
only the green bulbs and copper domes of their 
churches show above the snow. For the railway from 


St. Petersburg to Moscow follows inflexibly a straight 


line, and never turns aside under any pretext; it does: 


not even honour Tver with a curve or an elbow; al- 
though it is the largest city upon the line, and the one 
from which start the Volga steamers, the railway 
passes proudly at a distance, and Tver is reached, 
according to the season, in a sleigh or a troika. 

The stations are built on a uniform plan and are 
magnificent. The architecture is agreeable, mingling 
the red tones of brick and the white tones of stone, 
but after seeing one, one has seen all. I shall there- 
fore describe the station where we were expected for 
dinner. It is peculiar in this, that it is placed, not on 
the side of the railway, but in the centre of it, like the 
church of St. Mary-le-Strand. The railway encircles 
it with its iron ribbons, and it is at this point that the 
trains from Moscow and from St. Petersburg pass on 
sidings, landing on the right or left platform their 
travellers, who meet at the same table. The Moscow 
train meets the people from Archangel, Tobolsk, 
Viatka, Iakoutsk, the bank of the Amoor, the shores 


354 


! 
¢ 
: 
7 


dhedbabdbeok cb deck beak cb decbecbeeh cb echecb cock oh eh 
MOSCOW 


of the Caspian, from Kazan, Tiflis, the Caucasus, the 
Crimea, from the farthest points of European and 
Asiatic Russia; and as they pass they shake hands 
with their acquaintances brought by the St. Petersburg 
train. It is a cosmopolitan feast, at which more lan- 
guages are spoken than were heard in the Tower of 
Babel. 

Broad arcaded bays, with two windows placed oppo- 
site each other, lighted the hall in which the table was 
laid; there was a pleasant hot-house temperature in 
which Bourbon palms, tulip trees, and other tropical 
plants extended their broad, silky leaves. ‘This wealth 
of rare plants, which one does not expect to meet 
with in so cold a climate, is almost general in Russia ; 
it brightens the interiors, rests the eyes, fatigued by the 
dazzling brilliancy of the snow, and preserves the tra- 
dition of verdure. ‘The table was splendidly set, and 
covered with silver plate and glassware. A line of tall 
white bottles rose above the long, corked bottles of 
claret, covered with metallic caps, and the champagne 
bottles with lead caps. All the best brands were to be 
found there: Chateau Yquem, Haut Barsac, Chateau 
Laffitte, Gruau-Larose, Veuve Cliquot, Roederer, 
Moét, Sternberg Cabinet, and also all the famous 


a5 


che che che abe oe oho abe abe che cbr cho chocbe hecho she shock boob che oh hob 
TRAVELS PN) RUSS 


brands of English ale; a complete assortment of fa- 
mous drinks, bedizened with gilded labels, in brightly 
coloured, attractive designs and authentic coats of arms. 
The best wines of France are drunk in Russia, and the 
purest juice of our harvests, the unpressed wine of our 
wine-presses, goes down these Northern throats, which 
never think of the cost of what they drink. Except 
chtchi soup, the cookery, it is needless to say, was 
French. Waiters in black coats, white cravats, and 
white gloves, moved around the tables, and did their 
work thoroughly and quietly. 

Having satisfied my appetite, and while the travellers 
were emptying glasses of all manner of shapes, I looked 
at the two drawing-rooms situated at each end and re- 
served for illustrious personages, and at the elegant little 
stalls on which were exposed sashes, boots, Toula 
morocco slippers embroidered with gold and silver, Cir- 
cassian carpets embroidered in silk upon a scarlet back- 
ground, belts woven with gold threads, cases containing 
a platinum knife, fork, and spoon, inlaid with gold in 
charming taste, models of the cracked bell of the 
Kremlin, wooden Russian crosses carved with Chinese 
patience and covered with an infinite number of micro- 


scopic personages, — in a word, innumerable charming 


334 


trifles meant to attract the tourist and to diminish his 
possessions by a few roubles, unless, as is the case 
with myself, he has the strength to resist the lust of 
the eye and to be satisfied with merely looking at 
things. Yet it is very difficult when thinking of absent 
friends, not to purchase a number of these pretty things, 
which prove, when one returns home, that the absent 
were not forgotten, so that one always ends by 
giving in. 

The meal had collected in the same hall the travel- 
lers who were scattered through the different carriages, 
and I noticed that when travelling, as when in town, 
the women appeared to feel the cold less than the 
men: most of them were satisfied with their fur-lined 
satin pelisses, and they did not pull up their collars 
around their heads, nor overload themselves with one 
garment upon another. No doubt feminine coquetry 
has something to do with this, for what is the use of 
having a good figure and a small foot, if one has to 
look like a bundle of wraps. A pretty Siberian girl 
attracted every one’s eyes by her elegance, which travel 
did not interfere with in the slightest ; she seemed to 
have just got out of her carriage at the Opera-house 


door. “Iwo gipsy women, dressed with a quaint rich- 


335 


LLLLe thee bbeeebodeeee sed 
DRAV EDS 3EN RUS Sime 


ness, struck me by the strangeness of their features, 
which their semi-civilised costume made more singular 
still; they laughed at the compliments of the young 
lords, and exhibited fairly white teeth, set in the brown 
gums characteristic of the Bohemian race. 

On emerging from the warm room, the cold, as night 
approached, seemed to me sharper, in spite of the pelisse 
which I had put on, and as a matter of fact the ther- 
mometer had fallen some degrees; the snow was more 
intensely white, and screaked under foot like ground 
glass ; sparkling atoms floated in the air and fell on the 
ground. It would not have been prudent to resume 
my position on the platform of the carriage: I might 
have compromised the future of my nose; _ besides, 
the Jandscape remained unchanged, one white waste 
following another, for in Russia vast spaces have 
to be traversed before the aspect of .the horizon 
changes. 

The veteran with the many medals filled the stove 
with wood, and the temperature of the carriage, which 
had somewhat fallen, soon rose ; it was pleasantly warm, 
and but for the side motion, due to the hauling of the 
locomotive, I might have fancied myself in my own 


room. 


336 


The carriages of the inferior classes, installed less 
comfortably and less luxuriously, are heated in the same 
manner, for in Russia heat is provided for everybody ; 
nobles and peasants are equal in the presence of the 
thermometer; palaces and huts are warmed to the same 
temperature. It is a question of life and death. 

Lying down on the divan, my head resting on my 
hand-bag, covered over with my pelisse, I very soon 
fell asleep in thorough comfort, cradled by the regular 
motion of the train. When I awoke it was one in the 
morning, and it occurred to me to observe Northern 
nature at night for a few moments. Winter nights are 
long and dark in this latitude, but no darkness can quite 
extinguish the whiteness of the snow: under the most 
sombre sky its livid pallor can be made out, outspread 
like a mortuary cloth upon the vault of a tomb. 
Gleams of bluish phosphorescence show constantly on 
it; it indicates vanished objects by slight protuberances, 
and draws them on the black background of shadow, as 
with a white pencil. ‘This pale landscape, the lines of 
which changed their axes and met repeatedly behind the 
train, had the strangest aspect; for one moment the 
moon, breaking through the thick bank of clouds, cast a 
cold beam upon the lighted plain, the lighted portions 


VOL. I— 22 227 


decked heck dob cb abche checked check echo 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


of which were resplendent like silver, while the others 
were covered with bluish shades, proving the truth of 
Goethe’s observation on the shadow made by snow, in 
his theory of colours. It is impossible to realise the 
gloom of the vast pallid horizon, which seemed to 
reflect the moon, and to return to it the light it received 
from it. It formed and re-formed constantly around 
the carriage, ever the same like the sea, and yet the 
engine was flying along at full speed, casting out from 
its funnel crackling showers of red sparks. But to the 
discouraged eye it seemed as though we should never 
emerge from the white circle. The cold, increased by 
the disturbance of the air, became intense and froze me 
to the marrow, in spite of my thick, soft furs; my 
breath was crystallising on my mustache, and forming 
a sort of ice gag: the lashes of my eyes were being 
glued together, and I felt, although I was standing, sleep 
almost irresistibly overpowering me. It was time to 
re-enter the carriage, for while the bitterest cold is 
bearable when there is no wind, the least breath of air 
sharpens its darts and the edge of its steelaxe. Usually 
when the temperature is so low that the mercury freezes, 
the air is perfectly still ; and one might traverse Siberia 


with a taper in the hand without the flame quivering; 


338 


with the least draught of air, however, a man would freeze 
even if wrapped up in the spoils of the best-furred 
inhabitants of the Pole. 

It was a most agreeable sensation to plunge into the 
kindly atmosphere in the carriage, and to snuggle up in 
a corner, where I slept until dawn, with the peculiar 
feeling of pleasure which a man experiences when he is 
well sheltered from the rigours of the season, written 
on the panes in icy characters. “Gray morn” as 
Shakespeare calls it, — Homer’s “ rosy-fingered dawn” 
would get chilblains in this latitude, — gray morn was 
coming rapidly, in its pelisse, walking over the snow in 
its white felt boots. We were approaching Moscow, 
the dentellated crown of which could already be seen 
from the platform of the carriage, against the first flush 
of day. 

To the Parisian it is not many years since Moscow 
appeared faintly in the dim distance like a sort of 
Aurora Borealis filling the heavens, in the light of the 
conflagration started by Rostopchine, its Byzantine 
diadem bristling with strange towers and_ steeples, 
standing out against the blaze of lightning and smoke. 
It was a fabulously splendid and chimerically distant 


city, a tiara of diamonds placed ona waste of snow, of 
seen el OM senda Cr ey dvr ges RA EO 


339 


dhe deol ole oh dh ch ch ch eo dhecbedhcbeehe doh ab check 
TRAV EGS VEN SR OU Sie 


which the men who had returned in 1812 spoke with a 
sort of stupor, for in their case the city had turned into 
a volcano. Indeed before the invention of steamers 
and railways, a voyage to Moscow was no slight matter ; 
it was even more difficult than a trip to Corinth, which, 
if the proverb is to be believed, everybody may not 
take. 

When still a child Moscow filled my imagination, 
and I often remained in amazement and wonder on 
the Quay Voltaire, before the window of a dealer in 
engravings, in which were exhibited great panoramas of 
Moscow, in aqua-tinta, coloured by the Demarne or the 
Debucourt process, as was so frequently the case at that 
time. ‘The bulb-shaped steeples, the domes surmounted 
with crosses and chains, the painted houses, the people 
with broad beards and flaring hats, the women wearing 
the povoiniks, and short tunics with the waist under the 
arms, — seemed to me to belong to a world in the 
moon; and the idea of travelling thither had never 
occurred to my mind; besides, since Moscow had been 
burned down, what interest could a heap of ashes have? 
It took me a long time to realise that the city had been 
rebuilt, and that all. the old monuments had not disap- 


peared in the flames. Now, in less than half an hour 


340 


MOSCOW 


I should be able to judge whether the aqua-tintas of the 
Quay Voltaire were accurate or not. 

At the station there was a multitude of izvotchiks 
offering their sleighs to travellers and trying to obtain 
the preference. I chose two of them; | got into the 
one sleigh, with my companion, and our trunks were 
put into the other. In accordance with the custom of 
Russian coachmen, who never wait to be told whither 
one desires to drive, our men sent off their animals on 
a preliminary canter, in the direction they themselves 
fancied. They never fail to indulge in this sort of 
fantasia. 

Snow had fallen much more abundantly in Moscow 
than in St. Petersburg, and the sleigh track, the edges 
of which had been carefully shovelled up, was more 
than eighteen inches above the level of the pavements, 
that had been cleared. Upon this thick layer, polished 
by the runners of sleighs, our light equipages went like 
the wind, the horses’ hoofs sending, thick as hail, pieces 
of hardened snow against the dashboard. ‘The street 
through which we were driving was bordered by public 
vapour baths, for water baths are not much used in 
Russia; if the people look dirty, it is apparently so 


only, and is due to the winter clothing, which is not 


341 


ALAPHLALLALLALAALALLALLALL LAL 
TRAV Bio oiN BRS ee 


often renewed; but there is not a woman in Paris, 
making abundant use of cold cream, rice powder, and 
toilet waters, who is cleaner than a moujik emerging 
from a vapour bath. ‘The poorest go at least once a 
week. hese baths ‘are taken in common, without 
distinction of sex, and cost only a few kopecks. Of 
course for the rich there are more luxurious establish- 
ments, with all the refinements of the art of bathing. 

After rushing along at a mad speed for some time, 
our coachmen, considering that they had taken suffi- 
cient advantage of us, turned around on their box and 
asked us whither we were going. We named the 
Hotel Chevrier, on the Pereoulok Gazetny. They 
started again, this time towards a definite point. On 
the way I eagerly looked from right to left, without 
noting anything very characteristic. Moscow is formed 
of concentric zones ; the outer one is the more modern 
and least interesting. The Kremlin, which formerly 
contained the whole city, is now the heart and marrow 
of it. 

Above the houses, which were not very different 
from those of St. Petersburg, rose at times azure domes 
starred with gold, or bulbous steeples roofed with tin. 


A church in rococo style showed its facade painted a 


342 


tebbebbterettetebbtbteteted 
MOSCOW 


bright red, and quaintly touched up with snow on every 
projection. At other times the glance rested upon a 
chapel painted blue, which the winter had glazed with 
silver here and there. The question of polychrome 
architecture, so vigorously discussed even now with us, 
has long since been settled in Russia. ‘The buildings 
are gilded, silvered, painted in every possible colour, 
without the least care for good taste and sobriety as 
understood by pseudo-classics ; for it is certain that the 
Greeks overlaid their monuments, and even their statues, 
with divers colours. Very agreeable indeed is this rich 
palette applied to architecture, which in the West is 
condemned to warm grays, neutral yellows, and dirty 
whites. 

The shop signs exhibited, like golden ornaments, the 
beautiful letters of the Russian alphabet, which have 
a Greek aspect and might be employed in decorative 
friezes like Cufic characters. A translation is given 
for the benefit of the uncultured and the foreigners, in 
the form of artless representations of the objects con- 
tained in the shops. 

We soon reached the hotel, the main portion of 
which, covered with wood, contained under its sheds 


a strikingly varied collection of vehicles, —sleighs, 


Siam 


tebbbbtttteettbb tt edt tee 
TRAV ELS) ENS RUSS aee 


troikas, tarentasses, drojkis, kibitkas, post-chaises, bar- 
ouches, landaus, wagonettes, winter and summer car- 
riages, — for in Russia no one goes on foot ; if a servant 
goes out to fetch cigars, he takes a sleigh to traverse 
the hundred yards which lie between him and the 
tobacconist’s shop. We were given rooms adorned 
with mirrors, hung with papers of large patterns, and 
sumptuously furnished like the great hotels in Paris. 
There was not the slightest vestige of local colour, but 
on the other hand, all the implements of modern com- 
fort. However much of a Romanticist one may be, 
it is easy to resign one’s self to this, for civilisation 
has much influence even upon dispositions that most 
rebel against its love of ease. “There was nothing 
Russian, save the great, green leather sofa on which it 
is so pleasant to sleep rolled up in a fur coat. 

Having hung up my heavy travelling-garments and 
washed myself, it occurred to me it would be wise to 
have breakfast before starting out to visit the city, so 
as not to be disturbed in my admiration by hunger, and 
compelled to return to the hotel from some absurdly 
distant quarter. The meal was served in a -glass hall, 
arranged as a winter garden, with tall exotic plants. It 


is a curious sensation to eat in Moscow a_ beefsteak 


344 


with soufflé potatoes, in a miniature virgin forest. “The 
waiter who took our orders, standing near the table, 
had, though he wore a black coat and a white cravat, 
the yellow complexion, prominent cheek-bones, and 
small flat nose which betrayed his Mongolian origin, 
and proved that he must have been born not far from 
the frontier of China, in spite of his looking like a 
waiter of the Café Anglais. 

As it is not possible to observe comfortably the 
peculiarities of a city when one is carried along in a 
sleigh flying like the wind, I resolved, at the risk of 
being taken for a poverty-stricken individual, and of 
drawing down on myself the contempt of the moujiks, 
to make my first excursion on foot, wearing heavy 
furred galoshes intended to protect the soles of my 
shoes from the icy cold pavement. I soon reached 
Kitaigorod or business quarter, and the Krasnaia Square, 
the Red Square, or rather the Beautiful Square; for in 
Russia the words “red” and “beautiful” are synony- 
mous. One side of this square is occupied by the 
Gostiny Dvor, a vast bazaar cut by streets, glazed over 
like our passages in Paris, and which contains no less 
than six thousand shops. The wall enclosing the 


Kremlin rises at the other end, with its gates cut in 


8s 


Beeeteeteeetttttettttttttsts 
TRAVELS IN@RU Sea 


towers with painted roofs; over the battlements are 
seen the domes, steeples, and spirés of the churches and 
convents it contains. At the other end rises, like a 
chimera, the impossible church of Vassily Blajenny, or 
Cathedral of St. Basil, which makes one doubt the 
evidence of one’s eyesight. Apparently it is real, yet 
it seems to be a fantastical mirage, a cloud edifice curi- 
ously coloured by the sun, which the motion of the air 
will presently deform or destroy. It is unquestionably 
the most original building in the world. It recalls 
nothing ever before seen, and belongs to no style 
whatever. It looks like a giant madrepore, a colossal 
crystallisation, an inverted stalactite grotto; but it is 
useless to seek for comparisons to give an idea of a 
thing which has neither prototype nor analogy. Let 
me rather try to describe Vassily Blajenny, if there 
exists a vocabulary which will enable me to speak of 
what has not been anticipated. 

There is told, about the Vassily Blajenny, a legend 
which is probably untrue, but which none the less ex- 
presses strongly the poetry and feeling of stupefied 
admiration which this very singular edifice, so com- 
pletely outside of all architectural tradition, must have 


produced upon the men of the semi-barbaric epoch 


346 


Bingsi9jag “1G ‘soeES]T “IG JO [eIpayied 


Jnoidg *q asasoay Aq ‘ro6r 4ystAdoz 


LELLKEL EELS SAALAEALLLAL LAS 
MOSCOW 


when it was constructed. It was built by Ivan the 
Terrible, as a thank-offering for the taking of Kazan. 
When it was finished he thought it so beautiful, won- 
derful, and surprising that he ordered the architect — | 
an Italian, it is said — to be blinded, so that henceforth 
he should be unable to build a similar church anywhere 
else. According to another version of the same legend, 
the Czar asked the architect if he could not build a still 
handsomer church, and on his replying affirmatively, he 
had him beheaded, in order that the Vassily Blajenny 
should remain an unrivalled monument. It is impos- 
sible to conceive of a piece of cruelty more flattering 
in its very jealousy, and Ivan the Terrible must have 
been at bottom a genuine artist, a passionate dilettante. 
I own that such flattery in matters of art is less un- 
pleasant to me than indifference. What is certain is 
that Vassily Blajenny is unique. 

Imagine placed on a sort of platform and isolated by 
slopes, the strangest and most incoherent mass, a pro- 
digious heaping up of cabins, cells, outer staircases, 
arcaded galleries, unexpected and endless projections, 
unsymmetrical porches, chapels cheek by jowl, windows 
cut at hap-hazard, indescribable forms which are the 


outward expressions of the interior arrangements, as if 


S47 


cheb abe cle ole obs che be oho cde echo debe ch cheb cbabehe be obo 
TRAV ELS JEN) t(R OU Ssae 


the architect, seated in the centre of his work, had 
made a repoussé building. Fromthe roof of this church, 
which might be mistaken for a Hindoo, Chinese, or 
Thibetan pagoda, springs a forest of steeples in the 
strangest taste, and of unapproachable fancifulness. 
The centre one, which is the highest and the most 
massive, has three to four stories from the base to the 
spire. First, small pillars and denticulated bands, then 
pilasters framing in tall mullioned windows; then a 
scale-like series of superimposed arches; on the sides 
of the spire wart-like crockets dentellating each rib, and 
over all a small lantern surmounted by an overset golden 
bulb bearing the Russian cross. ‘The other steeples, of 
less size and height, affect the shape of minarets, and 
their fantastically traceried turrets end in the queer 
swelling of their onion-like cupolas. Some have ham- 
mered facets; others are ribbed; others are lozenged 
like pineapples; others rayed with spiral lines; others 
again imbricated with scales, with lozenges, or gofftered 
like a honey-comb. And all bear on their summit a 
cross adorned with golden balls. 

What still further adds to the fantastic effect of 
Vassily Blajenny is that it is painted from top to 


bottom in the most discordant tones, producing a har- 


348 


tttbtbebtttetttbtttbttd dds 
MOSCOW 


monious ensemble pleasing to the eye: red, blue, pale- 
green, yellow, bring out the various portions of the 
design. The small pillars and capitals, the arches, the 
ornaments, are painted in different tints, which makes 
them stand out strongly. Ona few flat surfaces have 
been simulated divisions, panels enclosing pots of 
flowers, roses, knots, monsters. ‘The decorators have 
adorned the domes and belfries with figured patterns 
like those of India shawls; thus placed on a church 
roof they look like Sultans’ kiosks. Hittorf, the 
apostle of polychrome architecture, would find here a 
startling confirmation of his theory. “To add to the 
magic beauty of the spectacle, the diapered robe of 
Vassily Blajenny was strewn with particles of snow, 
marking the projections of the roofs, the friezes, and 
the ornaments, and covering the marvellous decoration 
with innumerable sparkling points. 

Postponing my visit to the Kremlin, [I at once 
entered the church, the strangeness of which excited 
my curiosity to the highest pitch, in order to see 
whether the interior fulfilled the promise of the exterior. 
The same erratic genius had developed the planning 
and the ornamentation of the interior. A low outer 


chapel, in which twinkled a few lamps, looked like a 


349 


- 
i 
i. 
- 
- 
it 
ie 
ie 
ie 
ie 
Ste 
tke 
i 


CPs OMS OFS VIO Cie OFS OFS CFO Ome C/O CFO GO UTO VTE OTS OW ote abe obs obo ob be ob chr obo 
TRAVELS ‘LN, RUSSIA 


golden grotto; unexpected gleams flashed amid the 
ruddy shadows, and made the stiff images of the Greek 
saints stand out like phantoms. ‘The mosaics in St. 
Mark’s, at Venice, can alone give an approximate idea 
of this amazingly rich effect. At the back the Iko- 
nastas rose like a wall of gold and gems, between the 
faithful and the arcana of the sanctuary. In the semi- 
obscurity traversed by beams of light Vassily Blajenny 
is not like other churches. Composed of a single 
structure, of several connecting naves, cut at certain 
points of intersection, in accordance with the ritual of 
the Church, — it consists of a number of separate 
churches and chapels, brought together. Each steeple 
contains a church which fits as well as it can within its 
confines. The vaulting is the sheath of the spire or 
the bulb of the cupola. One seems to be standing under 
the vast helmet of some Circassian or Tartar giant. In 
addition these caps are marvellously painted and gilded 
internally, and so are the walls, covered with figures of 
conventional hieratic barbarism, the models of which 
the Greek monks of Mt. Athos have preserved during 
centuries, and which in Russia often lead astray the 
inattentive observer as regards the age of a building. 


It is a strange sensation to find one’s self in these 


350 


ISS EEE oP t ne 
Stpebbtbecetetetbtbetetets 
MOSCOW 


mysterious sanctuaries in which the well-known per- 
sonages of Catholic worship, mingling with the saints 
peculiar to the Greek calendar, seem, with their archaic, 
Byzantine, and constrained attitudes, to have been awk- 
wardly translated into gold by the childish devotion of 
some primitive tribe. “These images, looking like idols, 
which gaze at you through the cut-out parts of the 
silver plates of the Ikonostas, or stand in tall and 
symmetrical fashion upon the gilded walls, opening 
wide their staring eyes, and their brown hands with the 
fingers folded in diabolical fashion, — produce, with 
their grim, extra-human, immutably traditional aspect, 
a religious impression that works of more advanced art 
would not make. ‘These figures, amid the gleaming 
gold and the trembling light of the lamps, easily acquire 
a fantastic life capable of striking imaginations and of 
inspiring, as the day diminishes, a certain sacred awe. 
Narrow corridors, galleries with low arches, each 
corner of which touches the walls, and forces you to 
bend the head, run around these chapels, which may 
thus be reached in a succession. Most fantastic are 
these passages ; the architect seems to have delighted in 
mixing them up,—you ascend, descend, leave the 


church, re-enter it; you circle the bulb of a steeple, by 


ee 


tetee2¢teeetttetttttetette 
TRAVEWDS) INI RUSE 


walking along a cornice, you travel in the thickness of 
the wall, through narrow, tortuous windings resembling 
the capillary tubes of madrepores, or the paths cut by 
worms under the bark of wood. After so many 
twistings and windings, your head begins to spin around, 
you fall a victim to vertigo, and you fancy yourself a 
mollusk within a huge shell. I pass over the mys- 
terious corners, the inexplicable caecums, the low 
doors leading no one knows whither, the dark stairs 
which sink into the depths; else I should never be 
done with this building, in which one seems to be walk- 
ing in a dream. 

Winter days are very short in Russia, and the shades 
of twilight were beginning to bring out more brilliantly 
the lamps before the images of the saints, when I left 
Vassily Blajenny, taking this sample of the picturesque 
riches of Moscow as a good omen. I had just experi- 
enced the rare sensation in search of which a traveller 
will proceed to the very ends of the world. I had seen 
something which does not exist anywhere else. So I 
confess that the bronze group of Minine and Pojarsky, 
placed near the Gostiny Dvor and facing the Kremlin, 
impressed me but little as a work of art; the sculptor, 


Martos, does not lack for talent, but by comparison 


352 


tebtbtbttetbttttbotbttbtts 
MOSCOW 


with the fancifulness of Vassily Blajenny, his works 
struck me as too cold, too correct, too sagely academical. 
Minine was a butcher in Nijni-Novgorod, and raised 
an army to drive out the Poles, who had made them- 
selves masters of Moscow, after the usurpation of Boris 
Godounof; he handed over the command of his troops 
to Prince Pojarsky, and the pair of them, the man of 
the people and the nobleman, drove the foreigners from 
the Holy City. On the pedestal, adorned with bronze 
bassi-relievi, is this inscription: “To the Townsman, 
Minine, and to Prince Pojarsky, Grateful Russia, 
1818.” 

I make it a rule when travelling, and not too much 
pressed for time, to stop after a strong impression ; there 
comes a moment when the eye, saturated with form 
and colour, refuses to absorb new aspects; nothing 
more can enter it, as in an over-full vase; the previous 
image persists, and cannot be effaced. In that condi- 
tion one goes on looking without seeing; the retina 
has not time to become sensitive to a new impression. 
That was my case when I left Vassily Blajenny, and I 
felt [ must rest my eyes before seeing the Kremlin. 
So, having cast a last glance at the extravagant belfries 


of Ivan the Terrible’s cathedral, I was about to call a 


VOL, I— 23 353 


ame OF we OTe ee owe ore 


Seee¢eettettetetttttetette 
TRAV EES ON) RU SSaee 


sleigh to return to my hotel, when I was stopped on 
the Krasnaia by a strange noise that made me look up. 

Crows and ravens were crossing the gray sky, punc- 
tuating it with dark commas as they went croaking 
along. ‘They were returning to the Kremlin to roost ; 
but this was only the vanguard; soon arrived denser 
cohorts from all points of the horizon, making up 
bands that appeared to obey the orders of their leaders 
and to follow a strategical line; the black swarms did 
not all fly at the same height, but in superimposed 
zones, literally darkening the air. ‘Their numbers in- 
creased every minute; their croaks and the flapping of 
their wings made a deafening noise, while new pha- 
lanxes constantly appeared above my head, adding their 
numbers to the prodigious assembly. I had not sup- 
posed there were so many crows in the whole world; 
without any exaggeration there were hundreds of thou- 
sands of them; even these figures strike me as modest, 
and it would be more correct to say there were millions. 
It made me think of those flights of wood pigeons of 
which Audubon, the American ornithologist, speaks, 
which obscure the sky and cast a shadow on the earth 
like the clouds; they break down the forests upon. 
which they alight, and do not appear to be diminished 


35 


tebbbtttetetibebttttdteded 
MOSCOW 


by the tremendous number massacred by sportsmen. 
The innumerable army having effected its concentra- 
tion, was swooping over the Kremlin, ascending, de- 
scending, describing circles, with the roar of a tempest. 
Finally the whirlwind seemed to make up its mind, and 
each bird winged its way to its own night-roost. In- 
stantly steeples, domes, towers, roofs, battlements, were 
enshrouded in black whirlwinds and deafening calls; 
the birds were fighting for positions, —the least open- - 
ing, the narrowest fissure which could offer a shelter, 
became the object of a bitter siege. Little by little the 
tumult died away, every bird settled itself as comfort- 
ably as it could, not a single croak was to be heard, not 
a single crow to be seen; and the heavens, a moment 
ago covered with black points, resumed their crepus- 
cular lividity. On what can these myriads of sinister 
birds live? for they would make but one meal of all 
the bodies strewn behind a rout, especially when the 
ground is covered for six months with a heavy shroud 
of snow ; the garbage, the dead animals and the corpses 
of the city: cannot possible suffice for them; perhaps 
they eat.each other, as rats do in times of famine, but 
in that case their numbers would not be so considerable, 


and they would end by disappearing ; besides, they 
355 


LLALLALLLLALLAALALALLLALELS 
TRAV BLS JEN (RU S Sa 


appear vigorous, full of animation and joyous turbu- 
lence. ‘Their source of nourishment is a mystery to 
me, and proves that the instincts of animals find in 
nature resources concealed from man’s intelligence. 

My companion, who had watched this spectacle with 
me, but without any astonishment, for it was not the 
first time he had seen the Kremlin crows going to 
roost, said: ‘¢Since we are on the Krasnaia, right on 
the spot and within two steps of the most famous 
Russian restaurant in Moscow, do not let us go back 
to the hotel for dinner; we should have a pretentiously 
French meal; your traveller’s stomach, broken to 
exotic dishes, is complacent enough to admit local 
colour in cookery, and to allow that what can feed one 
man can well feed another. So let us enter here; we 
shall have chtchi, caviare, sucking pig, Volga sturgeon, 
with ogourtzis and horse-radish sauce; and we shall 
wash it all down with kwass— for a man must know 
everything —and iced champagne. How does that bill 
of fare strike you? ” 

On my replying affirmatively, my friend and guide 
led me to the restaurant situated at the end of the 
Gostiny Dvor, opposite the Kremlin. We ascended 


the well-heated stair, and entered a vestibule which 


356 


bbbbbbbbttdttttbbbtbbkd bbe 
MOSCOW 


looked like a furrier’s shop. The waiters quickly took 


off our pelts and hung them near the others on the 
coat-rack. Russian servants never make a mistake 
with pelisses, and at once put your own on your shoul- 
ders, without using numbers or other forms of check- 
ing. In the first room was a sort of bar, covered with 
bottles of kummel, vodka, cognac, and other liquors, 
caviare, herring, anchovy, smoked beef, elk and rain- 
bow tongues, cheese, and pickles, — delicacies which 
are intended to give one an appetite and are eaten stand- 
ing, before the meal. One of those Cremona organs 
with trumpets and drums, which Italians drag about 
the streets, placed on a little carriage drawn by a horse, 
stood against the wall, and a moujik, turning the han- 
dle, treated us to some operatic airs. “The numerous 
rooms opening one into another, with the blue smoke 
of the cigars and pipes floating close to the ceiling, 
extended so far that a second barrel-organ, placed at the 
other end, played a different air from that in the first. 
room, without causing any discord; and so the guests 
dined between Donizetti and Verdi. 

A characteristic feature of this restaurant was that 
the service, instead of being done by Tartars disguised 


as waiters, as in the Fréres-Provencaux, was simply in- 


Stbeettttretetetetettttetts 
TRAVELS JIN  RUSSTA 


trusted to moujiks, and one had at least the sensation 
of being in Russia. ‘These moujiks, young and well- 
made, their hair parted in the middle, their beards care- 
fully combed, their necks bare, wearing a rose or white 
summer tunic, drawn in at the waist, full blue trousers 
tucked in their boots, forming an easy national costume, 
—looked very well and naturally elegant. Most of 
them were fair, their hair of a chestnut brown, which 
is the legendary colour of Jesus Christ’s hair; and the 
features of some of them were marked by a Greek 
regularity, which is met with in Russia oftener among 
men than among women. ‘Thus dressed, and in an 
attitude of waiting respectfully, they looked like antique 
slaves on the threshold of the triclinitum. After dinner 
we smoked pipes of strong Russian tobacco, and drank 
two or three glasses of caravan tea, for in Russia it is 
not drunk in cups,— while, very much satisfied at 
having eaten local colour, I listened inattentively to the 
airs played by the barrel-organs, which sounded through 


the confused murmur of the conversations. 


358 


Contents 


TRAVELS IN RUSSIA. 


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Travels in Russia 


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TRAVELS INRUSSIA 


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EIEN KO RES Miers EN 


ITH us, people are apt to imagine that 
the Kremlin is blackened by time, and 
has the dark, smoky tone of our old 
buildings, which contributes to their 

beauty by making it venerable. We carry this notion 
so far as to wash the new parts of buildings with soot 
mixed with water, in order to give them a patina that 
shall destroy the crude whiteness of the stone and 
harmonise it with the older portions. One needs to 
have attained a very high degree of civilisation to 
understand this feeling, to prize the traces which the 
passage of centuries have left upon the epiderm of 
temples, palaces, and fortresses. Like people who are 
still young and artless, the Russians are fond of what 
is new or looks as if it were new; and they believe 
they prove their respect for a monument by renewing 
its coat of paint as soon as it begins to scale or fall 


away. [hey are the greatest whitewashers in the 


3 


SELLALALLALLALALLLLALLALLLLEA 
TRAVELS IN  RUSSiee 


world. Even the old frescoes in the Byzantine taste, 
which adorn the interior of the churches, and very 
often the exterior, are re-painted when the colours 
seem to be fading, so that these paintings, so solemnly 
antique in appearance, and so primitively barbaric, have 
sometimes been renovated but a few days before. It 
is not arare sight to behold a dauber perched on a 
frame scaffolding, touching up a Madonna with as 
much coolness as if he were a monk of Mt. Athos, and 
filling with fresh colours the austere contour which is 
itself but an unchangeable pattern. So one must 
be extremely prudent in appreciating these paintings, 
which once were old, if I may thus put it, but which 
are now wholly modern, in spite of their hieratic 
stiffness and quaintness. 

This little preamble has no other object than to pre- 
pare the reader for the white and coloured aspect of the 
Kremlin, instead of the sombre, melancholy, and grim 
look which his Western notions had led him to expect. 

Formerly the Kremlin, at all times considered the 
Acropolis, the holy place, the palladium, and the very 
heart of Russia, — was surrounded by a palisade of 
heavy oaken logs. The citadel of Athens was not 


otherwise defended before the first invasion of the 


= ae 


BLELALLALLALLLLALALELEL ELS 
THE KREMLIN 


Persians. Dimitri Donskoi replaced the palisade by 
crenelated walls, which, on account of their state of 
decay and ruin, were rebuilt by Czar Ivan III. It is 
Ivan III’s wall which still subsists to-day, but which 
has been frequently restored and rebuilt in more than 
one portion. Besides, thick layers of whitewash pre- 
vent one perceiving the wounds made by time, and the 
black traces of the fire of 1812, which, for the matter 
of that, merely licked the outer walls with its fiery 
tongues. “The Kremlin somewhat resembles the Al- 
hambra: like the Moorish fortress it stands on the 
plateau of a hill; enclosed within its walls, flanked by 
towers, it contains royal dwellings, churches, squares, 
and among the older buildings a modern palace, which 
fits in as unpleasantly as the palace of Charles V. in 
the delicate Arab architecture which it crushes with 
its weight. [he tower of Ivan Veliki, is not unlike 
the Vela tower, and from the Kremlin, as from the 
Alhambra, one has a wonderful prospect, — a panorama 
the dazzling beauty of which remains forever in the 
mind. But I must not carry this parallel farther, lest 
I should exaggerate it. 

Strange to say, the Kremlin, seen from outside, is 


rather more Eastern-looking than the Alhambra itself, 


5 


oh hea a oe oe ab abe oe abe abe cbe cde obec ble ceo be coo 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


with its massive, reddish towers, the inward magnif- 
cence of which nothing suggests. Above the wall, 
with its scalloped crenelations, between the towers 
with richly wrought roofs, myriads of domes, bulbous 
belfries, with metallic reflections and sudden flashes of 
light, seem to ascend and descend, like brilliant golden 
bubbles; the wall, glistering like a silver basket, encloses 
this bouquet of gilded flowers, and it is as if one really 
saw one of those fairy sites such as the imagination of 
Arab story-tellers builds so lavishly, — an architectural 
crystallisation of the Thousand and One Nights. And 
when Winter dusts with its diamond-like mica these 
edifices as strange as dreams, one could really believe 
one’s self transported into another planet, for on 
nothing like this has the glance ever fallen. 

I entered the Kremlin by the Spasskiia or Saviour’s 
Gate, which opens on the Krasnaia; it is cut in a huge 
square tower, in front of a sort of porch; the tower 
itself has three stories, diminishing in size, and is 
topped by a spire resting upon arcades. A double- 
headed eagle, holding in its talons the orb of the world, 
surmounts the sharp point of the spire, which is octago- 
nal, like the story immediately below, and ribbed and 


gilded on the sides. Each face of the second story 


6 


bbbbbbbbbbbbbebbbbbh het 
THE KREMLIN 


contains a huge dial, so that the tower tells the time to 
every point of the compass. Add, by way of effect, 
to the projections of the building a few touches of 
snow, put on like high lights in body-colour, and you 
will have a faint idea of the aspect of that superb 
tower which springs in three jets above the denticulated 
wall in which it forms a break. 

The Spasskiia Gate is the object of such veneration 
in Russia, on account of a miraculous image or legend, 
concerning which I could not obtain accurate informa- 
tion, that no one passes under it with covered head, 
not even the Czar himself; a failure in this respect is 
considered an act of sacrilege, and might prove peril- 
ous; foreigners are therefore informed of the custom. 
It is not simply a question of bowing to the holy 
images on the entrance of the porch, before which 
burn everlasting lamps, but one has to remain bare- 
headed until one has passed through altogether. Now, 
it is not a pleasant thing to have to hold your fur cap 
in your hand when the cold is ten below zero, and 
this in a long passage through which blows an icy 
blast; but every one must conform to the usages of 
nations, and take off one’s cap under the Spasskiia 


Gate, or one’s boots on the threshold of the Souleiman 


7 


eEAKAALEDLAALLALAL LALLA? L LSA 
» FRAVEERSAN (See 


Mosque, or St. Sophia’s. A true traveller never 
objects, even if he were to catch the worst possible 
cold in the head. 

After passing through this gate one enters upon the 
esplanade of the Kremlin, amid the most splendid 
medley of palaces, churches, and convents which it 
is possible to imagine. They have no relation to 
any known style; they are neither Greek nor Byzan- 
tine, nor Gothic, Arab, or Chinese; they are Russian 
and Muscovite. Never has a freer, more original 
architecture, one more careless of rules, more Roman- 
ticist, in a word, realised its caprices with such fanci- 
fulness. The surfaces occasionally look like chance 
crystallisations. However, this style, which seems to 
obey no law, is easily recognised at a glance by its 
characteristic domes and golden bulbous steeples. 

Below this esplanade, on which the principal build- 
ings of the Kremlin are grouped, and which forms the 
plateau of the hill, winds, following the changes of the 
ground, the rampart with its warders’ walk, flanked 
with towers of infinite variety, some round, some 
square, others slender as minarets, others massive as 
bastions, with collarettes of battlements, stories set 


back, gambrel roofs, open galleries, lanterns, spires, 


8 


choco ceo he ook he ee ctece eck che ect aoe 
THE KREMLIN 


scale-work, rib-work, every possible manner of roofing 
atower. The crenelations cut deep into the wall; their 
tops in the shape of the barbed head of an arrow, are 
alternately filled up or pierced by a barbican. I am 
not a judge of the value of such a defence from a 
strategic point of view, but from that of poetry it fully 
satisfies the imagination, and gives the impression of a 
formidable citadel. 

Between the rampart and the terre-plein, which is 
bordered by a balustrade, extend gardens, at present 
covered with snow, and rises a picturesque little church 
with bulbous steeples. Beyond, as far as the eye can 
reach, stretches the vast and wondrous panorama of 
Moscow; the saw-like crest of the wall forms an ad- 
mirable foreground, and throws back the vistas of the 
horizon in a way that no art could improve upon. 

The Moskva, about as broad and as sinuous as the 
Seine, encloses the whole of this side of the Kremlin, 
and? from the esplanade looked like a frozen abyss of 
opaque glass, for the snow had been swept from the 
spot I was looking at, to make a track for trotters being 
trained for sleigh races on the ice. 

The revetment of the quay, which is bordered by 


splendid modern hotels and mansions, forms a sub- 


— 


9 


LEEDLAELLALLEALLAALELALLALLE 
TRAVELS AN (RWSS i 


structure of firm lines for the vast sea of houses, the 
roofs of which extend beyond it into the infinite, and 
are set off by the perspective and the height of the 
point of view. | 
A fine hard frost, — words that would make Méry 
shiver with horror, for that chilly poet pretends that 
every frost is hideous,—a fine hard frost having 
cleared the sky of its great uniform tint of yellowish 
gray, drawn the night before like a curtain over the 
darkened horizon, the circular canvas of the panorama 
was of a fairly bright azure, and the increased cold, 
which crystallised the snow, made the brilliancy of the 
latter greater still. A pale sunbeam, such as shines in 
the month of January in Moscow, on these short winter 
days which recall the nearness of the Pole, falling 
obliquely on the city, spread out fan-wise around the 
Kremlin, touched the snow-covered roofs, and here and 
there made them sparkle. Above the white roofs, 
which looked like the foam flecks of a petrified tem- 
pest, uprose, like ships stranded on reefs, the higher 
masses of the public buildings, of the churches and the 
convents. It is said that Moscow contains more than 
three hundred churches and convents; I do not know 


whether the figures are exact or merely hyperbolical, 


IO 


ded che abe de oh de ok oh dee deckecbecb ab cba cteek de eck 
THE KREMLIN 


but they sound probable when one looks at the city 
from the top of the Kremlin, which itself contains 
many cathedrals and religious edifices. 

It is impossible to imagine anything more beautiful, 
richer, more splendid and more fairy-like than the 
domes surmounted by Greek crosses, the bulbous bel- 
fries, the hexagonal or octagonal spires, with moulded 
ribs and tracery which swell out or flash up over the 
motionless tumult of the snow-covered roofs; the gilded 
cupolas have reflections of marvellous transparency, 
and the light is concentrated on their salient points in 
the form of a star shining like a lamp. Some of the 
churches with silver or tin domes, seem to be roofed 
with moons. Farther on are helms of azure, constel- 
lated with gold; caps made of plates of beaten copper, 
imbricated like dragons’ scales; or else overset onions, 
painted green and glazed with a thin, shining veneer 
of snow; then, as the distance grows greater, the details 
vanish, even when a glass is used, and nothing can be 
seen but the brilliant mass of domes, spires, towers, 
campaniles, of every imaginable shape, their outlines 
showing dark against the bluish tint of the distance, 
and their projections standing out, thanks to a spangle 


of gold, silver, copper, sapphire, or emerald. “To com- 


II 


tebbebttettttttttttetttes 
TRAVE DSi bN Reise 


plete the picture imagine, over the cold, bluish tints of 
the snow, a few long and gentle gleams of faint purple, 
the pale roses of a Polar sunset strewn over the ermine 
carpet of a Russian winter. 

No city gives such an impression of absolute novelty ; 
not even Venice, for which Canaletto, Guardi, Boning- 
ton, Joyant, Wild, Ziem, and photographs prepare one 
long beforehand. Hitherto Moscow has not been 
much visited by artists, and its quaint aspects have 
rarely been reproduced; the severe Northern climate 
adds to the peculiarity of the picture by the effects of 
snow, the strange colour of the heavens, the quality of 
the light, which is not the same as with us and requires 
of Russian painters a special scale of colour, the truth- 
fulness of which it is difficult to understand when one 
has not visited the country. On the esplanade of the 
Kremlin, with the panorama of Moscow stretched out 
before one, one really feels in a foreign country, and 
a Frenchman, the most in love with Paris, does not 
regret the gutter of the Rue du Bac. 

The Kremlin contains within its walls a great num- 
ber of churches, or cathedrals as the Russians call 
them ; so the Acropolis, on its narrow plateau, held a 


great number of temples. I shall visit them one after. 


ie 


Sttbbhbbbbestet htt tht hes 
THE KREMELIN 


another, but I shall first stop at the tower of Ivan 
Veliky, —a huge, octagonal belfry, with three stories, 
each narrower than the lower one, and the last of 
which, above the zone of ornaments, assumes the form 
of a round turret and ends in a swelling cupola, gilded 
with ducat gold and surmounted with a Greek cross 
set upon acrescent. At each story an arcade cut out 
on the side of the tower allows the bronze bells to be 
seen. here are thirty-three of them ; one is said to 
be the famous alarm-bell of Novgorod, the sound of 
which summoned the people to tumultuous delibera- 
tions on the public square. One of these bells weighs 
over sixty-five tons, and the great bell of Notre-Dame, 
of which Quasimodo was so proud, would by the side 
of this monstrous mass of metal look like a mere hand- 
bell used in the service of the mass. 

It seems that the Russians are passionately fond of 
colossal bells, for close to the tower of Ivan Veliky the 
amazed tourist perceives on a granite base a bell so 
enormous it might be taken for a bronze tent, espe- 
cially as a broad fissure forms in the side a sort of door, 
which a man could easily enter without bending his 
head. It was cast by order of the Empress Anne, and 


two hundred tons of metal were used in the casting. 


13 


abe obs obs ole abe ole abe obs checks che abe abr obs ofr obs obe obs of ofr olle 


we ae we we ore Ore ONS UFO 


ches be obo obe oh het 
TRAVELS AN RSS 


i 


It was de Montferrand, the French architect of St. 
Isaac’s, who hauled it up, and drew it out of the ground 
in which it was half buried, either through the violence 
of its fall while it was being hoisted, or in consequence 
of a fire or a break-down. Can sucha mass ever have 
been swung? Did the iron clapper ever send out a 
sonorous tempest from that mysterious capsule? His- 
tory and legend are mute on this point. Perhaps, like 
some of the ancient peoples who left in their aban- 
doned camps beds twelve cubits long, to make those 
who came after believe they belonged to a race of 
giants, the Russians may have wished by casting this 
bell, out of all proportions to human uses to give to 
distant posterity a gigantic idea of themselves, if after 
the lapse of many centuries the bell were found in the 
course of excavations. However it may be, it is 
beautiful, like all things which surpass ordinary dimen- 
sions. ‘The gracefulness of enormity, a mysterious 
and grim but real gracefulness, is not lacking. The 
sides are formed of ample and powerful curves, circled 
by delicate ornamentation ; it is surmounted by a globe 
with a cross upon it; its clear-cut outlines and the 
patina of the metal please the eye; while the fissure 


itself opens like the mouth of a bronze cavern, myste- 
a i 


14 


nr I, 


eae oo be oboe obo oe ke ce cdecde baba ae ce ce ce oe hoch 
PEE KR EMEYVN 


rious and sombre. At the foot of the pedestal is 
placed, like the detached knocker of a gate, a fragment 
of metal which was broken out of the bell. 

But I have talked enough about bells. Let us enter 
one of the most ancient and most characteristic cathe- 
drals of the Kremlin, the first one to be built in 
stone, the Cathedral Ouspensky, or Cathedral of the 
Assumption. It is true that this is not the original 
building founded by Ivan Kalita, which fell after a 
century and a half of existence, and was rebuilt by Ivan 
III, so that the existing cathedral does not go back 
farther than the fifteenth century, in spite of its By- 
zantine air and its archaic aspect. One is surprised to 
learn that it is the work of Fioraventi, the Bolognese 
architect, whom the Russians call Aristoteles, perhaps 
on account of his great learning. One would natu- 
rally suppose that it was a Greek architect who had 
been called from Constantinople, his head still filled 
with St. Sophia’s and the types of Greek oriental archi- 
tecture. The Assumption is almost a square, and its 
great walls rise up with surprising and superb upward 
rush. Four enormous pillars, as big as towers and 
as mighty as the pilasters of the palace at Karnak, 


support the central dome, which is placed upon a flat 


15 


LEELELLLL LAE EEL ELE beh bebt 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


roof, in the Asiatic style, and flanked by four smaller 
cupolas. ‘This simple arrangement produces a grandi- 
ose effect, and the massive pillars give, without seeming 
heavy, a firm base and an extraordinary stability to the 
mass of the cathedral. 

The whole interior of the church is covered with 
paintings in Byzantine style, upon gold backgrounds; 
the pillars themselves are covered with figures painted 
in zones as on the columns of Egyptian temples and 
palaces. Curious indeed is this form of decoration, in 
which you are surrounded by thousands of figures as by 
a mute multitude, ascending and descending the walls, 
walking in files in Christian processions, isolating 
themselves in attitudes of hieratic stiffness, following 
the curve of the pendentives, of the vaulting, of the 
cupolas, and clothing the temple with a human tapes- 
try, swarming motionless and troublous. “The mysteri- 
ous effect is increased by the paucity of light, which is 
skilfully managed. The great grim saints of the 
Greek calendar, assume in their tawny, ruddy shadows, 
a formidable life-like look; they gaze upon you with 
their fixed eyes, and seem to threaten you with their 
hands outstretched in blessing. The militant arch- 


angels, the holy knights with elegant and bold mien, 


16 


botbbtbbeteretetet 


tye. ce cfe wpe due fe ote ove ove 


deckecoabeel ole ces 
THE KREMLIN 


mingle their brilliant armour with the dark robes of 
the old monks and anachorets, They have the pride of 
port, the trace of antique outlines which mark the 
figures of Panselinos, the Byzantine painter, master of 
the monk of Aghia Lavra. The interior of St. Mark’s 
at Venice, which looks like a gilded grotto, gives an 
idea of the Cathedral of the Assumption; only, the nave 
of the Muscovite church springs heavenwards, while 
the vaulting of St. Mark’s mysteriously presses down 
like a crypt. 

The Ikonostas, a high gilded wall of five stories of 
figures, looks like the facade of a golden palace, and 
dazzles the eye with its fabulous magnificence. 
Through the chasing of the goldsmith-work the 
Mother of God and the saints pass their brown heads 
and hands; their aureoles in relief, catching the light 
make the facets of their incrusted gems sparkle in the 
sunbeams, and flame like genuine haloes; upon the 
images, which are the objects of peculiar veneration, 
are hung pectorals of precious stones, necklaces, brace- 
lets, constellated with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, 
emeralds, amethysts, and turquoises. The craze of 
religious luxury could not possibly be carried farther. 


What beautiful decorative motives are these Ikono- 


VOL, Il. —2 I 7 


Le bbbb bt bbb bbb bbb te 


CFO CFS OFS OFS O68 OFO C18 


TRAVEDLSJIN RGSS 


stases, veils of gilded gems, stretched between the faith of 
the faithful and the mysteries of the Holy Sacrifice. It 
must be acknowledged that the Russians have admirably 
turned them to account, and that as regards magnifi- 
cence the Greek religion is in no wise inferior to the 
Catholic, even though it does not equal it in the 
domain of pure art. 

There is preserved in the Cathedral of the Assump- 
tion, in a casket of priceless value, the tunic of our 
Lord. Two other reliquaries, blazing with gems, con- 
tain a piece of the Virgin’s dress and a nail from the 
True Cross. The Vladimir Virgin painted by the 
hand of St. Luke — the image of which the Russians 
look upon as a palladium, and the exhibition of which — 
caused the fierce hordes of Timour to retreat — is 
adorned with a single diamond, estimated to be worth 
more than one hundred thousand francs. The mass of 
goldsmith-work in which it is set has no doubt cost 
twice or thrice as much. This form of luxury would 
strike a man of delicate taste, more attracted by beauty 
than wealth, as somewhat barbaric, but it cannot be denied 
that the mass of gold, diamonds, and pearls does actually 
produce a religious and superb effect. These Virgins, 


whose jewel-cases are better filled than those of queens 


18 


bibbh bbb bbb bbb hb 
THE KREMLIN 


and empresses, impress artless piety ; they shine in the 
shadows, in the faint light of the lamps, with super- 
natural beams, and their diamond crowns scintillate 
like starry coronets. 

From the centre of the vaulting hangs an immense, 
massive, silver lustre, beautifully worked, of circular 
shape, which replaces the former lustre, of great weight, 
carried away during the French invasion; forty-six 
branches are fitted to it. 

It is in the Cathedral of the Assumption that the 
Emperors are crowned; the platform reserved for the 
sovereign stands between four pillars which support 
the cupola, and is placed opposite the Ikonostas. “The 
tombs of the Metropolitans of Moscow are against the 
side walls ; they are of oblong form; in the penumbra 
in which they are enveloped, they resemble trunks 
ready packed for the great voyage of Eternity. 

The Arkhanghelsky, or Archangel Cathedral, the 
facade of which is turned obliquely towards the Ous- 
pensky Cathedral, distant a few steps only, —is not 
essentially different in plan; it has the same system of 
bulbous domes, massive pillars, Ikonostases brilliant 
with gold, Byzantine paintings covering the interior of 


the edifice like sacred tapestry. Only in this church 


19 


bhebbbbbeteetethttt tt tees 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


the paintings are not upon gilded backgrounds, and 
resemble frescoes more than mosaics. ‘They represent 
scenes of the Last Judgment, and the haughty, grim- 
faced portraits of the old Russian Czars. 

Here are the tombs of these Czars covered with 
cashmeres and rich stuffs like the turbehs of the Sultans 
in Constantinople; they are sober, simple, and severe; 
Death is not made pretty, with the delicate efflores- 
cence of Gothic art, which has found in mortuary 
sculpture its happiest themes for ornamentation ; there 
are no kneeling angels, no theological virtues, no 
emblematical weeping figures, no saints in traceried 
niches, no fantastic lambrequins wreathed around 
coats of arms, no knights in armour, their heads 
resting on a marble cushion and their feet upon 
a sleeping lion; —nothing but the body within its 
funereal box, covered over with the mortuary pall. 
No doubt it is a loss for art, but a gain for religious 
impression. 

In the Cathedral Blagoviestchensky, or Cathedral of 
the Annunciation, at the back of the Czar’s palace, is 
shown a very curious and very rare painting, which 
represents the Angel Gabriel appearing to the Blessed 


Virgin, to announce to her that she is to be the Mother 


20 


SebbbPbbLLstEbeLetLesekere 
HVE KORE MEN 


of the Son of God; the interview, like that of Jesus 
and the woman of Samaria, takes place near a well. 
According to the tradition of the Greek church, 
it was later, after her humble acquiescence in the 
will of the Lord, that the Blessed Virgin was visited in 
her chamber by the Holy Ghost. ‘This scene, painted 
on the tower wall of the church, is protected against 
the weather by a sort of awning. A single fact 
suffices to give an idea of the internal splendour 
of the church: the pavement is formed of agates 
brought from Greece. 

Near the New or Great Palace, and ciose to these 
churches, is a strange building in no known style of 
architecture, Asiatic and Tartaric in appearance, which 
is among the lay buildings what Vassily Blajenny is to 
the religious buildings, — a fully realised fancy of sump- 
tuous, barbaric, and fantastic imagination. It was built 
under Ivan III, by the architect Aleviso. On its roof 
spring in graceful and picturesque irregularity the gold- 
topped turrets of the chapels and oratories it contains. 
An outer staircase, from the top of which the Emperor 
shows himself to the people after his coronation, leads 
up to it, its ornamental projection forming an original 


architectural feature. It is as well known in Moscow 


a 


bpbbbbbbbbobbbbbtd ath 
TRAVERS aN Ri SS ie 


as the Giants’ Staircase in Venice; it is one of the 
curiosities of the Kremlin, and is called in Russian 
Krasnoe Kriltso, or the Red Staircase. 

The interior of the palace, the residence of the 
ancient Czars, is almost indescribable; the rooms and 
passages seem to have been cut out one after another, 
without following a-settled plan, from some huge block 
of stone, so curious, complicated, and bewildering is 
the maze they form; the level and the direction chang- 
ing in accordance with the caprices of a crazy fancy. 
One walks through it as in a dream, sometimes stopped 
by a grated gate that opens mysteriously, sometimes 
forced to pass along a narrow, dark passage, the walls 
of which one almost brushes on either side; or again, 
there is no other way than the dentellated edge of the 
cornice, from which one sees the copper plates of the 
roof and the bulbs of the belfries; ascending, descend- 
ing, utterly bewildered, seeing here and there through 
golden gratings the gleam of lamps flashing upon the 
gilded Ikonostas, and reaching after this long trip in 
the interior, a hall amazingly ornamented with barbaric 
richness, at the end of which one is surprised not to 
see the great Khan of Tartary seated cross-legged upon 


his black felt carpet. 


22 


' , / ‘ 


sheet chee che che che cheb cbechch cheek hab 
THE KREMLIN 


Such is for instance the hall called the Golden Cham- 
ber, which occupies the whole interior of the Grano- 
vitaia Palata, or Facetted Palace, thus called no doubt 
on account of the facetting in diamond form of the 
stones of the facade. The gilded vaulted ceiling of 
this hall is supported by elliptical arches resting upon a 
central pillar; thick, gilded iron bars bind the arches 
one to another, and prevent their spreading. A few 
paintings here and there form dark spots against the 
ruddy splendour of the background. On the mould- 
ings and arches run inscriptions in old Slavic letters, 
magnificent characters which lend themselves as readily 
to the ornamentation of buildings as does Cufic. It is 
not possible to imagine a richer, more mysterious, more 
sombre and yet more brilliant decoration, than that of 
the Golden Chamber: a Shakespearean Romanticist 
would love to make of it a setting for the last scene 
of a drama. 

Some of the vaulted halls of the Old Palace are so 
low that a man of medium height can scarcely manage 
to stand upright in them. It was there that in an 
atmosphere overheated by the stoves, the women, 
Squatting in Eastern fashion upon piles of carpets, 


spent the long hours of the Russian winter, watching, 


——<— 


one 


£tieedetbbeeebtetettttttet tet 
TRAVEUVSHIN BRE Sea 


through the narrow windows, the snow sparkling upon 
the gilded cupolas and the crows sweeping in vast 
spirals around the steeples. 

These apartments, covered with paintings, the palm 
leaves, designs, and flowers of which resemble the 
patterns of Cashmere shawls, make one think of Asiatic 
harems transported into Northern climes; the real 
Muscovite taste, spoiled later on by unintelligent imi- 
tation of Western arts, here appears in all its primitive 
originality, and with all its strongly barbaric flavour. 
I have often noticed that the progress of civilisation 
seems to deprive nations of the feeling for architecture 
and ornament; the old buildings of the Kremlin prove 
once again how true is this assertion, which may at 
first appear paradoxical. The decoration of these mys- 
terious chambers has been directed by an inexhaustible 
fancy; gold, green, blue, red mingle with wondrous 
success and produce charming effects. This architec- 
ture, utterly careless of symmetrical combinations, 
rises like a mass of soap-bubbles which a child blows 
in a plate through a straw. Each cell joins the next 
one, turning to account its angles and its facets, and 
the whole mass is brilliant with the varied colours of 


the iris. This apparently puerile and eccentric com- 


24 


ttettttttetettetettetetes 
THE KREMLIN 


parison, nevertheless renders better than any other the 
way in which these fantastic though real palaces are 
clustered together. 

I wish the New or Great Palace had been built in 
this style. It is an immense building in modern taste, 
which: would be beautiful anywhere else, but which is 
out of place in the centre of the old Kremlin. Classi- 
cal architecture, with its great cold lines, seems still 
more wearily solemn amid these strangely shaped, 
brightly coloured palaces, and the multitude of Eastern- 
looking churches that raise to heaven a gilded forest of 
cupolas, domes, pyramidions and bulbous steeples. On 
beholding this Muscovite architecture, one might readily 
believe one’s self in some fanciful city of Asia; the 
cathedrals might be mosques, and the steeples minarets, 
but the sedate facade of the New Palace brings one 
back to the West and to civilisation, a painful thing to 
a Romanticist barbarian like myself. 

The palace is entered by a monumental staircase 
closed at fts upper part by magnificent gates of polished 
iron, which are opened to give passage to the visitors. 
Then one enters under the high vaulting of the domed 
hall, in which are placed sentries that are never relieved ; 


they are four manikins, dressed from top to toe in 


25 


LLLLEALE SESE a eELLELE ELS 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


curious, antique Slavonic armour. ‘These knights have 
a splendid port. ‘They are so life-like that the mistake 
is easily pardoned; one might easily imagine that their 
hearts are beating under their coats of mail. Medizval 
armours thus placed upright almost make me shiver 
involuntarily, so faithfully do they preserve the. outer 
form of man, which has vanished forever. 

From this rotunda start two galleries containing ines- 
timable riches. ‘The treasury of Caliph Haroun-al- 
Raschid, the wells of Abul-Kassim, the Griine-GewAlbe 
at Dresden, would not together present such a multitude 
of marvels, the material value of which is enhanced by 
their historical worth. Here sparkle, shine, and cast 
prismatic flashes and capricious gleams, diamonds, sap- 
phires, rubies, emeralds, all the precious gems which 
miserly Nature conceals within her mines, and which 
are here lavished as if they were mere glass. They con- 
stellate crowns, they light up the ends of sceptres, they 
roll in sparkling rain upon the insignia of empire, they 
form arabesques and monograms, under which one can 
hardly perceive the golden setting. The eye is dazzled 
and the mind scarce ventures to calculate the sums of 
money represented by these splendours. It would be 


folly to attempt to describe this mighty jewel-casket, — 


26 


ac eo oe oboe oe hs ode a cede cece of ce ce cbr eae foc 
THE KREMEIN 


a whole volume would be insufficient. I must be 
satisfied with mentioning some of the most remarkable 
objects. One of the most ancient crowns is that of 
Vladimir Monomachus; it was the gift of Emperor 
Alexis Comnenius, and was brought from Constan- 
tinople to Kiev by a Greek Embassy, in 1116. Apart 
from its historical associations, it is a piece of work in 
exquisite taste. On a ground of gold filigree are in- 
crusted pearls and precious stones, arranged with a 
wonderful knowledge of ornamentation. ‘The crowns 
of Kazan and Astrakhan, in Oriental taste, the one 
covered with turquoises, the other surmounted by a 
huge, uncut emerald, are jewels which would drive 
modern goldsmiths to despair. ‘The crown of Siberia 
is of gold cloth, and, like all the others, bears on top 
the Greek cross; and like all the others is starred with 
diamonds, sapphires, and pearls. The golden sceptre 
of Vladimir Monomachus, nearly one metre in length, 
contains no less than two hundred and sixty-eight 
diamonds, three hundred and sixty rubies, and fifteen 
emeralds. The enamels which cover the places left 
free by the gems represent devotional subjects treated 
in Byzantine style. ‘This sceptre and a reliquary in 


the form of a cross, which contains a fragment of the 


27 


bebgetdbdttttetetttttttttt 
TRAVETS UN RWS 


stone of our Lord’s tomb and a piece of the True Cross 
are also presents from Emperor Alexis Comnenius. 
This treasure is enclosed in a golden casket, fairly 
covered with gems. A curious gem is the chain of the 
first of the Romanoffs, on each link of which is en- 
graved a prayer and one of the Czar’s titles; there 
are ninety-nine links. I cannot speak of all the 
thrones, orbs, sceptres, and crowns of the different 
reigns, but I may say that if the richness is ever the 
same, the purity of taste and the beauty of work- 
manship diminish in proportion as one draws closer 
to modern times. 

A no less marvellous thing, but more easily de- 
scribed, is the hall containing the gold and silver plate. 
Around the pillars rise circular credences in the form 
of dressers, which support a whole world of vases, pots, 
ewers, flagons, beer glasses, tankards, bowls, jugs, 
ladles, pipkins, cups, mugs, cans, pottles, goblets, 
beakers, pints, stoups, gourds, amphore, and what- 
ever relates to lush, as Rabelais used to say in his 
Pantagruelic tongue. Behind these shine vessels of 
gold and silver-gilt, as large as those in which Victor 
Hugo’s Burgraves had whole oxen served up. Every 


pot has its own nimbus, and what pots they are! 


28 


SEPA ALEALSALALA LES ALLE SS 
THE KREMEIFIN 


Some are no less than three or four feet in height, and 
could be lifted bya Titan only. Imagine the expendi- 
ture of imagination in this variety of plate! Every 
shape capable of containing drink, wine, hydromel, 
beer, kwass, brandy, seem to have been made use of. 
The ornamentation of these gold and silver or silver- 
gilt vases is in the richest, most fantastic and most 
grotesque taste; sometimes bacchanals with chubby, 
jolly figures dancing around the paunch of a pot; 
sometimes foliage with animals and hunts; sometimes 
dragons writhing around the handles, or antique medals 
set within the sides of a beaker; a Roman triumph 
passing by with its trumpets and ensigns; Hebrews in 
Dutch costume carrying the grapes from the Promised 
_Land; a mythological feminine nude figure, contem- 
plated by satyrs through dense arabesques. According 
to the artist’s fancy the vases assume bestial forms, take 
the shape of heavy bears, or slender storks, or winged 
eagles, or ducks with swelling breasts, or stags with 
antlers thrown back. A dish for comfits is made in 
the shape of a ship, with swelling sails and flying flags, 
and is full of spices up to the hatch-way. Every 
possible fancy of goldsmith-work is carried out on this 


wondrous sideboard. 


29 


LLAELAEALLELEAAALAALALELLLS 
TRAVEWSIIN RESSIe 


The Hall of Armour contains treasures which would 
tire out the pen of the most intrepid catalogue-maker. 
Circassian helmets, coats of mail, adorned with verses 
of the Koran, bucklers with filigree bosses, scimitars, 
kandjars with jade handles, sheaths rich with precious 
stones, all the weapons of the East, which are at the 
same time gems, blaze amid the more severe arsenal 
of the West. On seeing all this accumulated wealth 
one’s brain gives way and one begs for mercy of the 
too complacent or too conscientious guide, who will 
not spare you a single object. 

I like very much the Chapter Rooms of the various 
orders of knighthood, the orders of St. George, St. 
Alexander, St. Andrew, St. Catherine, which occupy a 
. vast gallery, the motive of ornamentation of which is 
drawn from the quarterings of their coats of arms. 
Heraldic art is eminently decorative, and when applied 
to buildings always produces a good effect. 

The sumptuousness of the furniture of the state 
apartments can readily be imagined without my enter- 
ing into details. Everything modern luxury could 
produce in the way of splendour is collected here at 
great expense, and nothing recalls the charming Mus- 


covite taste; but the style adopted was rendered neces- 


30 


SPLLEAAELEALLSAAEALLELEL ALLS 
THE FREMETN 


sary by that of the palace. What greatly surprised me 
was to find myself at the end of the last room face to 
face with a pale phantom of white marble, in the cos- 
tume of an apotheosis, which fixed upon me its great 
motionless eyes, and bent with a meditative air its 
Roman Cesar’s face: I certainly had not expected to 


find Napoleon in Moscow in the palace of the Czars. 


31 


HERE is one excursion which is certain to 
be suggested, and which should be made 
when one has a few days of leisure, after 
having seen the chief sights : it is a visit to the Troitza 
Convent. The trip is worth the trouble, and no one 
ever regrets having taken it. So it was agreed I should 
go to Troitza, and the Russian friend who had so 
kindly undertaken to show me about, took charge of 
' the preparations. He ordered a kibitka and sent ona 
relay of horses, which we were to find half-way, for by 
making an early start the trip may be made in half 
a day, and Troitza be reached early enough to enable 
one to get a general idea of the buildings and the site. 
I was strictly charged to be ready at three o’clock in 
the morning. 
I was up and ready when the kibitka stopped before 
the inn door. On trying to see what kind of weather 
it was I noticed that the thermometer inside the house 


marked sixty-six degrees, while the thermometer out- 


32 


teetetteeebtttbtttitettss 
TROITZA 


side showed over twenty-five below zero. ‘The kibitka 
was waiting for us and the impatient horses tossed 
their heads, shaking their long manes and chewing the 
snow. A kibitka is a sort of box as much like a hut 
as a carriage and placed upon a sleigh. It has a door 
and a window, which must not be shut, for the breath 
of the passengers freezing upon the pane would turn 
to ice, and thus one would be deprived of air and 
plunged in a white darkness. 

We settled ourselves as well as we could in the 
kibitka, packed like sardines; for although there were 
only three of us, the numerous garments we had put on 
caused us to take up as much room as six people. In 
addition, by way of further precaution, travelling-blan- 
kets and a bear-skin robe were thrown over us; and 
then we were off. It was about four o’clock in the 
morning. In the sky, which was of a blue black, the 
stars twinkled brilliantly with that bright light that 
denotes intense cold. “The snow creaked under the 
steel runners of the kibitka like a pane of glass 
scratched by a diamond. ‘There was not a breath of 
wind, and it seemed as though the wind itself were 
frozen. I could have gone about with a lighted candle 
in the hand without the flame flickering. The wind 


VOL. Il. — 3 33 


LELEAEALE EELS ELE EES 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


increases enormously the rigour of the temperature ; it 
turns inert cold into active cold, and icicles into arrow- 
heads. In a word, it was what might be called fine 
weather for Moscow, at the end of January. 

Russian coachmen like to drive fast, — a fancy shared 
by their horses, which have to be restrained rather than 
excited ; they always start at full speed, and until one 
is accustomed to the tremendous pace one fancies the 
horses have bolted. Our own steeds carefully observed 
this law, and galloped madly through the solitary and 
silent streets of Moscow, faintly lighted by the reflec- 
tions of the snow, which recalls the dying gleams of 
frozen lamps. ‘The sombre silhouettes of the houses, 
buildings, and churches, with quaint sky-lines and re- 
lieved by white touches, — for no obscurity quite dims 
the silvery brilliancy of the snow, — flashed rapidly to 
right and left. Sometimes the domes of chapels of 
which we got glimpses, looked like giant helmets over- 
topping the ramparts of some fanciful fortress. The 
silence was broken only by the watchmen walking with 
regular steps, and dragging their iron-shod sticks upon 
the pavements, in proof of their vigilance. 

At the rate at which we were going we soon left the 


city, although it is very large; roads took the place of 


34 


fhtbbttbbbottdbbbbttt dest 
TROITZA 


streets; houses disappeared, and on either side the 
country showed faintly white under the night sky. It 
is a curious sensation to be flying fast through a pallid, 
indefinite landscape, enshrouded in monotonous white- 
ness, which resembles the plains of the moon, while 
men and animals are asleep, and with no other sound 
than the galloping of the horses and the creaking of the 
sleigh-runners over the snow. We might have fan- 
cied ourselves upon an uninhabited globe. 

The night had been starry, but towards morning 
vapours ascended from the horizon, and the Muscovite 
dawn showed paleand with sunken eyes in the dim light ; 
perhaps its nose was red, but the epithet “‘ rosy-fingered ” 
which Homer applies to the Greek Aurora, did not suit 
it. However, the light it gave was sufficient to show 
in all its extent the gloomy but rather grand landscape 
which unrolled before us. 

My readers may perhaps think that my descriptions 
are all alike, but monotony is one of the characteristic 
traits of a Russian landscape, at least in the country we 
were traversing. It consists of vast plains with slight 
elevations, and no other hills than the low hillocks on 
which are built the Kremlin of Moscow and the 


Kremlin of Nijni-Novgorod, which are no higher than 


35 


LEADLLALALLAALAALALLLALL ELS 
TRAVELS TEN RUSSTA 


Montmartre. The snow, which during four or five 
months of the year covers these flat countries, adds to 
the uniformity of their aspect by filling up the paths, 
the beds of the streams, and the valleys which these 
have hollowed out. All one sees for hundreds of miles 
is an endless white surface, slightly broken here and 
there by the inequalities of the ground, and, according to 
the position of the sun, sometimes enlivened with rosy 
lights and bluish shadows; but when the heavens wear 
their usual leaden-gray livery, the general tone is a mat 
white or rather a dead white. At various distances, 
more or less close, lines of reddish brush, half emerging 
from the snow, break the vast extent of white; scat- 
tered birch and pine woods here and there make a dark 
spot, and poles like telegraph poles mark the road 
from place to place, for it is often effaced by drifts. 
Near the road, isbas, built of round logs, the chinks 
filled up with moss, the roofs, the poles of which cross 
and form a sort of X on the summit, align their sharp 
gables, and on the edge of the horizon the low sil- 
houettes of the villages, surmounted by a church with 
bulbous steeples, stand out. There is no life save a 
few flights of crows or ravens, and sometimes a moujik 


on his sleigh, drawn by little horses with long manes 


36 


tibtbbtbetbtetbbttitettte 
DROLET AA 


and tails, carrying wood or other goods to a dwelling 
farther inland. Such is the landscape, which is repro- 
duced incessantly, and which re-forms around you as 
you proceed, just as the horizon of the sea is constantly 
re-forming and constantly the same around a ship. 
Although picturesque incidents are very rare, one does 
not weary of looking at the vast space which fills one 
with an indefinable melancholy, as does whatever is 
great, silent, and solitary. Sometimes in spite of the 
speed of the horses one might fancy one’s self at a 
standstill. 

We reached the relay house, which was built of 
wood, the yard filled with telegas and mean-looking 
sleighs. In a low room moujiks in tulupes shining 
with grease, with blond beards and red faces lighted by 
eyes of a polar blue, were grouped around a copper urn 
and drinking tea; while others were asleep on benches 
near the stove, — a few felt more chilly and were lying 
upon it. 

We were shown into an upper room, ceiled and 
wainscotted so that it looked like a pine box seen from 
inside. It was lighted by a small window, with double 
sashes ; and for sole ornament hada picture of the 


Mother of God, of which the nimbus and the garments 


3h 


tebbbtte te eettttbtttttetesd 
TRAVELS IN, BUSSES 


were of stamped metal, cut out for the head and the 
hands, and showing the brown carnation flesh-tint 
which the Russians have imitated from the Byzantine 
school, and which gives an antique look to very recent 
paintings. [he Child Jesus was treated in the same 
manner. A lamp was burning before the holy image. 
These figures mysteriously tanned, which one catches 
sight of through the holes of the gold or silver carapace, 
have a good deal of character and command veneration, 
more than pictures, preferable from an artistic point of 
view, would do. There is no hut so poor but that it 
possesses one of these images, which the dwellers in 
the building never pass without uncovering and fre- 
quently worshipping them. 

The furniture of the room consisted of a table and a 
few stools, and the pleasant hot-house atmosphere 
made it comfortable. I threw off the pelisses and 
heavy garments which weighed me down, and, thanks to 
the provisions we had brought from Moscow, we had 
an excellent breakfast, washed down with caravan tea, 
drawn in the samovar of the inn. ‘Then again putting 
on our heavy armour to protect us from the darts of 
winter, we settled ourselves once more in the kibitka, 


ready to brave gaily the rigours of the Pole. 


38 


ee 
bbttetetteetetttttbbetos 
TROITZA 


On approaching Troitza the houses become more 
numerous, and you feel you are coming to an im- 
portant place: Troitza is indeed the centre of many 
pilgrimages ; people resort to it from all the provinces 
of the Empire, for St. Sergius, the founder of this 
famous convent, is one of the most venerated saints 
in the Greek calendar. The road that leads from 
Moscow to Troitza, and which we followed, is that 
of Yaroslav, and in summer is said to be much 
travelled; we passed through Ostentina, where is a 
Tartar camp, through the village of Rostopkine, 
through Alexevikoi, where up to a few years ago 
were to be seen the ruins of the castle of Czar 
Alexis; and when the country is not covered with 
a mantle of snow there are to be seen a number 
of pretty summer houses. The pilgrims, wearing 
their armiaks and shoes made of the bark of the 
lime tree, when they do not walk barefoot through de- 
votion, follow the sandy road by short stages. Families 
follow in kibitkas, bringing with them mattresses, 
pillows, kitchen utensils and the indispensable samo- 
var, just like travelling tribes. But at the time of my 
excursion the road was absolutely deserted. Before 


reaching Troitza the ground sinks somewhat, zullied 


28 


Abbbh tht e Leet eett tere teses 
TRAVELS: TNA Re Soa 


no doubt by some stream frozen in winter and covered 
with snow. On the other slope of the ravine, upon a 
broad plateau, rises picturesquely the fortress-look- 
ing convent of St. Sergius. It forms a vast square, 
surrounded by solid ramparts, upon which runs a 
covered gallery, pierced with barbicans, which shel- 
ters the defenders of the place; for the convent 
may well be so called, having been attacked several 
times. Great towers, some square, others hexagonal, 
rise at the corners and flank the walls at various 
points. Some of these towers have on their sum- 
mits a band of battlements, projecting boldly, on 
which rise roofs that swell curiously, and that are 
surmounted by lanterns ending in spikes. Others 
bear a second tower, narrower than the first, and 
springing above it from a balustrade of belfries. The 
gate by which the convent is entered is cut in a 
square tower, in front of which stretches a vast 
square. 

Above the ramparts show, with graceful and pictur- 
esque regularity, the roofs of the curious buildings 
which the monastery contains; a vast refectory hall, 
the walls of which are quadrilled and painted to re- 


semble boss-work, facetted like diamonds, strikes the 


40 


ale oe os be abe abe ob abe abe abe che chorale cbe obe be ch che cb che he oh choo 
TROITZA 


eye by its imposing mass, which the belfry of the 
elegant chapel lightens up. Close by swell the five 
bulbous domes of the Church of the Assumption, 
surmounted by the Greek cross. A little farther, 
overtopping the sky line, the high, multicoloured 
steeple of the Church of the Trinity upraises its 
stories of turrets and carries away up into the heavens 
its cross adorned with chains. Other towers, belfries, 
and roofs are confusedly seen above the walls, but I 
cannot give them a definite position by description; 
nothing will answer but a sight of the place itself. 
Charming indeed are these gilded spires and cupolas, 
to which the snow adds a few touches of silver as they 
spring from the mass of edifices built in brilliant 
colours. They give the impression of an Oriental 
city. 

On the other side of the square is a vast hostelry 
intended to receive pilgrims and travellers; it re- 
sembles a caravansary rather than an inn. Our car- 
riage was put up there and before visiting the monastery 
we selected our rooms and ordered dinner. “The place 
was not the equal of the Grand Hétel du Louvre, or 
of the Hotel Meurice, but after all it was fairly com- 


fortable, — for the place; the temperature within was 


41 


bbb bhhbbbbbbhbbhhd bbb bd 
TRAVEES JIN RUSS iia 


spring-like, and the pantry seemed well stocked. The 
wails uttered by tourists about the filth and vermin in 
Russian inns surprise me. 

Near the convent gate were stalls covered with small 
goods and curiosities, such as tourists like to carry 
away as souvenirs: children’s toys of most primi- 
tive simplicity, coloured in an amusingly barbarous 
manner; Chinese white felt shoes, trimmed with rose 
or blue, which an Andalusian woman could scarcely 
put on; furred mittens; Circassian belts; Toula forks 
and spoons inlaid with platinum; reproductions of the 
great bell of Moscow; chaplets ; enamelled Madonnas, 
with the effigy of St. Sergius; crosses of metal or 
wood, containing a multitude of microscopic figures in 
Byzantine style, mingled with inscriptions in Slavic 
characters; loaves of bread baked in the convent, with 
scenes from the Old and New Testaments stamped 
upon the crust; and heaps of green apples, which the 
Russians appear to be particularly fond of. A few 
moujiks, purple with cold, looked after these little 
shops, for here women, though they are not subjected 
to seclusion as in the East, scarce mingle with outer 
life; they are rarely met with in the streets; trade is 


carried on by men, and a sales-woman is an almost 


42 


ALLLLALLALLALLALLALALLEL ELS 
ERO Das 


unknown person in Russia. This is a survival of the 


old Asiatic modesty. 

On the entrance gate are painted several passages 
from the life of St. Sergius, the great local saint. Like 
St. Roche and St. Anthony, St. Sergius has his favourite 
animal. It is neither a dog nor a pig, but a bear, a 
wild beast admirably fitted to figure in the legend of 
the Russian saint. When the venerable hermit lived 
in solitude, a bear used to wander around his hermitage, 
with evidently hostile intentions; one morning on 
opening his door the saint found the bear standing up 
and growling, its paws outstretched as if for an em- 
brace, which was intended to be anything but brotherly. 
Sergius raised his hand and blessed the animal, which 
fell on all fours, licked his feet, and thenceforth fol- 
lowed him as docilely as the most submissive dog: the 
saint and the bear got along together thereafter most 
admirably. 

After having cast a glance at these paintings, which, 
if they are not ancient, are at least restored from an 
antique and sufficiently Byzantine model, we entered 
the interior of the convent, which is very like the 
interior of a fortress, and is indeed one, for Troitza 


has been besieged several times. 


+3 


debs dech beh bab debe checheehecheeh ch chick oh eck 


wR ore wre eve te ore wre 


TRAVELS) INS RUSS 


A brief historical summary of Troitza may be de- 
sirable before passing to the description of the monu- 
ments and riches contained within its ramparts. St. 
Sergius lived in a hut in the centre of a vast forest 
pertaining to Radoneje, now Gorodok, devoting him- 
self to prayer, fasting, and every austerity of a hermit’s 
existence. Near his cabin he built a church in honour 
of the Holy Trinity, and thus created a religious centre 
to which the faithful were attracted. Fervent disciples 
desired to remain with the Master; in order to lodge 
them Sergius built a convent which received the name 
of ‘Troitza, which, in Russian, means Trinity, and he 
was elected Father Superior. This took place in 
1340. 

The thought of his own salvation and of heavenly 
things did not prevent St. Sergius taking an interest 
in contemporary events; the love of God in him had 
not extinguished the love of country; he was a patri- 
otic saint, and as such is still the object of great ven- 
eration among the Russians. He it was who at the 
time of the great Mongol invasion, induced Prince 
Dimitri to march into the plains of the Don, against 
Mamai’s ferocious hordes. In order that religious ex- 


citement should be added to heroic inspiration, two 


44 


abe obs obs obs abe obs able ohn alle abe oben cb cbe obo obs obs ofl oft of of abe afl ofc of 
TROLTZA 


monks named by Sergius accompanied the prince to 
battle; the enemy was repelled, and Dimitri out of 
gratitude richly endowed the convent of Troitza, an 
example followed by princes and czars, among these 
Ivan the Terrible, who was one of the most generous 
benefactors of the monastery. In 1393 the Tartars 
attacked Moscow, and ravaged the country around it 
after the Asiatic manner. Troitza was already too 
rich a prey not to excite their covetousness, so the 
convent was attacked, pillaged, burned and reduced to 
a heap of ruins. When Nikon, once the devastating 
torrent had spent itself, returned to rebuild the mon- 
astery, and to bring back to it the scattered monks, he 
found under the débris, the miraculously preserved 
body of St. Sergius. 

Troitza in times of invasion and troubles served as 
an asylum to patriotism, and as a citadel to the nation. 
The Russians in 1609 defended it for sixteen months 
against the Poles led by the Hetman Sapieha and 
Lissovski. After several fruitless assaults the enemy 
was obliged to raise the siege. Later on, the convent 
of St. Sergius sheltered the young Czar Peter Alexie- 
vitch, who was fleeing from the revolt of the Strelitzes 


or, to speak more correctly, Streltzys, and the gratitude 


45 


che obe che ole be ob che he che cb chebech cbecbech bb bebh fb heb 
TRAVELS f&Ni (RiUSSis 


of this illustrious personage, once he obtained power, 
enriched and transformed it into a tabernacle of treas- 
ures. Since the sixteenth century Troitza has not 
been pillaged, and the convent would have offered 
magnificent spoils to the French army if it had pushed 
on so far, and if the burning of Moscow had not com- 
pelled Napoleon to retreat. Czars, princes, boyars 
(nobles), through pure ostentation or in the hope of 
obtaining the pardon of Heaven, have endowed Troitza 
with incalculable wealth, which it still retains. The 
sceptical Potemkin, who was none the less very devout 
as regards St. Sergius, presented it with sumptuous 
ecclesiastical vestments. Besides these quantities of 
wealth Troitza owned one hundred thousand peasants 
and vast domains, which Catherine II. secularised after 
having indemnified the monastery by rich presents. 
Formerly Troitza held within its cells some three 
hundred monks; nowadays there are not more than 
one hundred, who scarcely fill the vast solitude of the 
immense convent. 

The precincts of Troitza, which is almost a town, 
contain nine churches, or cathedrals, as they are called 
in Russia, the Czar’s palace, the residence of the 


Archimandrite, a Chapter house, a refectory, a library, 


46 


che abe abs obs abe alls abe che abe abe fe cbocle che che abe ob che che che che oh cho che 
TR © LZ 


a treasury, the cells of the brethren, mortuary chapels, 
and offices of all kinds; symmetry was not observed, 
and the buildings arose, when needed, on the spot 
where they were wanted, as plants grow in good 
ground. ‘The aspect of the place is strange, novel, 
foreign, and in no wise resembles the picturesqueness 
of Catholic convents. “The melancholy of Gothic art, 
with its slender pillars, its pointed arches, its traceried 
trefoils, its heavenward spring, inspires a very different 
order of ideas. Here are long cloisters enclosing with 
their weather-worn arches a solitary green; no austere, 
moss-covered, rain-washed old walls, to which cling 
the smoke and rust of time; no architecture of endless 
fancifulness, varying the main theme, and turning the 
expected into the unexpected. The Greek religion, 
which from the point of view of art is less picturesque, 
preserves the old Byzantine formula and fearlessly 
repeats itself, caring more for orthodoxy than taste. 
It nevertheless obtains powerful effects of splendour 
and richness, and its hieratic barbarity impresses deeply 
the simple minded people. It is impossible for the 
most blasé tourist not to feel admiration as weli as 
astonishment when he perceives at the end of an 


avenue of trees brilliant with frost, that opens before 


47 


LLALLALLALLLLLALALLL LAL ELSE 


wwe wee 


TRAV ERS VEN WR See 


him as he issues from the tower gate, the churches 
painted blue, bright red, apple green, outlined in white 
by the snow, and rising quaintly with their golden or 
silver cupolas amid the polychrome buildings that sur- 
round them. 

The day was waning when I entered the Troitsky 
Sobor or Cathedral of the Trinity, in which is the 
shrine of St. Sergius. Mysterious shadows heightened 
the magnificence of the sanctuary. On the walls long 
rows of saints formed dark spots against the golden 
backgrounds, and lived with a sort of strange, grim 
life; they looked like processions of serious personages 
standing out dark on top of a hill against the setting 
sun. In other more obscure corners, the painted 
figures were like phantoms watching with their 
shadowy glances what was going on in the church; 
touched by some stray beam here and there an aureole 
shone like a star in the dark heavens, or gave to the 
head of a bearded saint the look of the head of St. 
John the Baptist on the dish of Herodias. The Iko- 
nostas, a gigantic facade of gold and gems, rose to the 
roof with tawny gleams and prismatic scintillations. 
Near the Ikonostas, on the right, a luminous focus 


drew the eye. Numerous lamps cast in that part 


48 


ELLLLALL DLE AL eee Reh e 
TROITZA 


gleams of gold, silver-gilt and silver. ‘This was the 
shrine of St. Sergius, the humble hermit, who rests 
there in a monument richer than that of any emperor. 
The tomb is of silver-gilt, and the baldachin of massive 
silver, supported by four pillars of the same metal, pre- 
sented by the Czarina Anna. 

Around this mass of goldsmith-work, shimmering 
with light, moujiks, pilgrims, devotees of all kinds, lost 
in admiring ecstasy, were praying, making signs of the 
cross, and following out the practices of the Russian 
devotion. It formed a picture worthy of Rembrandt. 
The dazzling tomb splashed the kneeling peasants with 
flaming light, that caused a head to shine, a beard to 
sparkle, a profile to stand out; while the lower part of 
the body remained bathed in shadow, and was lost 
under the coarse thick garments. There were among 
them superb heads, illumined by fervour and belief. 

After having contemplated this most interesting 
spectacle, I examined the Ikonostas, wherein is set 
the portrait of St. Sergius, which is said to be miracu- 
lous, and which was carried first by Czar Alexis in his 
wars against the Poles, and next by Czar Peter the 
Great in his campaigns against Charles XII. It is 


impossible to imagine what a wealth of richness, faith, 


VOL. Il. —4 49 


Skttttttetttttttttttttsts 
TRAV EBS aN aU Sa 


devotion, or remorse hoping to gain the indulgence of 
Heaven,-—— have accumulated for centuries past upon 
this Ikonostas, which is a colossal jewel-case, a perfect 
mine of gems. ‘The aureoles of the figures are covered 
with diamonds ; sapphires, rubies, emeralds and topazes 
form mosaics upon the golden robes of the Madonna; 
the features are drawn in white and black pearls, and 
when room is lacking carcanets of massive gold, fixed 
at the two ends like the handles of drawers, are used 
for the setting of huge diamonds. I dare not calculate 
the worth of them; unquestionably it is many millions. 
No doubt a simple Madonna by Raphael is more 
beautiful than the Greek Mother of God thus adorned, 
yet that prodigious, Asiatic, and Byzantine magnifi- 
cence is effective in its way. 

The Ouspensky Cathedral or Cathedral of ‘the 
Assumption, which is near that of the Trinity, is built 
on the same plan as the Ouspensky Cathedral in the 
Kremlin, the exterior plan of which is here repeated. 
The walls and the huge pillars which upbear the vault- 
ing are covered with paintings that might be attributed 
to the personal pupils of Panselinos, the great Byzan- 
tine artist of the eleventh century. “The whole church 


looks as if it were hung with tapestries, for no relief 


50 


ip 


che he che ob obs che che he che che ctecteche cboche abe cheb cheek ob ch 
TROITZA 

breaks the immense fresco, divided into zones and 
compartments. Sculpture has no part in the ornamen- 
tation of religious buildings devoted to Greek worship ; 
the Eastern Church, which makes such profuse use of 
the painted image, appears not to admit the carved 
image, and to fear a statue as if it were an idol, 
although bassi-relievi are occasionally employed in the 
decoration of doors, as well as of crosses and other 
utensils of worship. I know of no detached statues in 
the round save those which adorn St. Isaac’s. This 
absence of relief-work and of sculpture gives to Greek 
churches a strange and peculiar aspect which one does 
not quite grasp at first, but which is understood 
later on. 

In this church are the tombs of Czar Boris Godunoff, 
his wife, and his two children. These tombs resemble, 
as far as style and form go, Mussulman turbehs; reli- 
gious scruple has banished the art which makes Gothic 
tombs such admirable monuments. 

St. Sergius, the founder and patron of the convent, 
fully deserved to have his church on the site where 
formerly arose his hermitage; so that there is in 
Troitza a chapel of St. Sergius, as richly ornamented 


as the sanctuaries of which I have just spoken. Here 


SI 


ALLLL ALES EEE be ete bbees 
TRAVERS tNe Resse 


is found the miraculous image of the Virgin of Smolen- 
sko, called “the Guide.’”’ The walls are covered with 
frescoes from top to bottom, and the Ikonostas allows 
the brown heads of the Greek saints to be seen through 
the open portions of its stamped goldwork. 

Meanwhile night had fallen, and however zealous he 
may be, a tourist cannot carry on his trade in the dark; 
besides, hunger began to torment me, and I returned 
to the inn, where the soft temperature of Russian inte- 
riors awaited me. The dinner was fairly good. The 
inevitable cabbage soup with balls of forced meat, suck- 
ing-pigs, soudak, a fish peculiar to Russia like the 
sturgeon, formed the menu, and were washed down 
with a cheap, white Crimean wine, a sort of “ epilep- 


b 


tic coco,” which amuses itself trying to imitate cham- 
pagne, and yet, taking it all round, not unpleasant to 
drink. After dinner a few glasses of tea, and a few 
puffs of Russian tobacco, exceedingly strong, which is 
smoked in small pipes like those of the Chinese, — 
occupied me until bed time. 

The next day early I continued my tourist work on 
the convent of ‘T’roitza, and finished visiting the 
churches which I had been unable to see the day be- 


fore, and which it is needless to describe in detail, for 


52 


ale hy obe ob che abe alls oe cbr abr chr olnce bao ob ob os cb ceo of eof 
TROITZA 


internally they are, with a very few exceptions, mere 
repetitions like liturgical formule. On the exterior 
of some of the churches the rococo style mingles in the 
quaintest manner with the Byzantine style; besides, it 
is difficult to ascertain the real age of these edifices ; 
what seems ancient may have been painted but the 
night before, and the traces and action of time 
vanish under successive coats of colour, which are 
constantly renewed. 

I had a letter from an influential personage in Mos- 
cow for the Archimandrite, a handsome man with a 
long beard and long hair, of most majestic face, whose 
features recalled those of the human-headed Ninevite 
bulls. The Archimandrite did not know French, and 
sent for a nun who understood the language and told 
her in Russian to accompany me on my visit to the 
Treasury and other curiosities of the convent. ‘The 
nun, on arriving, kissed the Archimandrite’s hand, and 
stood silently before him until the keeper had brought 
the keys. Her face was one of those it is impossible 
to forget, and which emerge from the commonplaces 
of life like a dream. _ She wore a sort of bushel meas- 
ure, like the diadem of certain Mithriac divinities, and 


such as is worn by popes and monks; long crépe 


53 


SeECE SALAS eettsetsetstst 


TRAVELS JIN) RivUShae 

lapels fell down on either side upon the full black 
dress, of the same kind of stuff of which barristers’ 
gowns are made; her face, ascetically pale, with waxy 
yellow tones under the delicate skin, was perfectly reg- 
ular. Her eyes circled by a broad, brown, heavy line, 
exhibited, when she raised them, pupils of a strange 
blue, and her whole person, though buried and as it 
were lost within her fdating gown of black tamine, 
betrayed the highest breeding. She drew the folds of 
her dress behind her along the endless corridors of the 
convent, with the same air as she would have worn a 
court dress at some great ceremony. The charms of 
the former woman of the world, which she tried to 
dissimulate through Christian humility, returned in 
spite of herself. On seeing her the most prosaic 
imagination could not help weaving a story: what 
sorrow, what despair, what catastrophe of love could 
have brought her here? She made me think of the 
Duchess of Langeais in Balzac’s “ History of the 
Thirteen,’ whom Montriveau found within the Anda- 
lusian convent, wearing the Carmelite dress. | 

We reached the Treasury, where I was shown as 
the most precious objects a wooden goblet and a few 


coarse sacerdotal vestments. ‘The nun explained to us 


54 


febtbbtbbbbbetdbdddddd ddd 
TROITZA 


that the mean, wooden vase was the ciborium which 
St. Sergius used in celebrating mass, and that he had 
worn these chasubles of poor stuff, — thus transform- 
ing them into priceless relics. She spoke the purest 
French without any accent, and as if it were her 
mother tongue. While she was telling me some mar- 
vellous legend connected with these things, in the most 
collected manner, and yet without scepticism or credu- 
lity, a faint smile flitted over her lips, and revealed 
teeth whiter than all the pearls in the treasury, brilliant 
teeth that left an unforgettable memory like Bere- 
nice’s teeth in Edgar Allan Poe’s tale. These lumi- 
nous teeth in that face worn by grief and austerity, 
brought back her youth: the nun who at first had 
appeared to be about thirty-six or thirty-eight, now 
seemed to be only twenty-five; but it was merely a 
flash; having felt with feminine delicacy my respectful 
but deep admiration, she resumed the dead look that 
became her habit. 

Every cupboard was opened and I was enabled to 
see the Bibles, Gospels and liturgies, in silver-gilt 
bindings, encrusted with precious stones, onyx, sar- 
donyx, agate, chrysoberyl, aqua-marine, lapis-lazuli, 


malachite, turquoise, with gilded silver clasps, and 


55 


PobbbhbbetLeeettLetLe eet der 
TRAVELSTINARUSSae 


antique cameos set on the covers; golden ciboriums 
ringed with diamonds ; crosses studded with emeralds, 
and rubies ; rings set with sapphires ; vases and candle- 
sticks of silver; brocaded dalmatics embroidered with 
flowers, gems, and inscriptions in old Slavic characters, 
formed of pearls; perfume-burners in clotsonné enamels; 
triptychs adorned with numberless figures; images of 
Madonnas and saints, perfect blocks of goldsmith- 
work, constellated with rough gems, —in a word a 
treasure house of MHaroun-al-Raschid Christianised. 
As we were leaving, dazzled by these wonders, my 
eyes fluttering and filled with flashes, the nun made 
me notice, upon the shelf of a cupboard, a row of bushel 
measures which had escaped my notice and which did 
not appear to be particularly striking. She plunged 
her long, delicate, aristocratic hand into it and said: 
“« These are pearls ; we did not know what to do with 
them, and put them there; there are eight bushels of 


them.” 


de ke oe oe oe oe oe oe eee ede obs cece be de 
Diels, LNA RUSSTA 


—_ — =—**— =~ = — 


Peewee ple Ne eee er 


AVING gathered from some of my remarks 

H that I was not a stranger to art, it occurred 

to the nun who had shown me the Treasury, 

that an inspection of the studios in the convent might 

interest me as much as these heaps of gold, diamonds, 

and pearls, and she therefore led me by broad passages, 

broken by stairs, to the great rooms in which worked 
the painter-monks and their pupils. 

The conditions of Byzantine art are very peculiar. 
It does not resemble in the least what is meant by art 
among the nations of Western Europe or those which 
belong to the Latin church. It is a hieratic, sacer- 
dotal, unchanging art; little or nothing is left to the 
fancy or the invention of the artist: its formulz are 
as strict as dogmas. Therefore in its school there is 
neither progress nor decadence nor epoch. A fresco 
or a painting finished a score of years ago, cannot be 
told from a painting which is hundreds of years old; 


as Byzantine art was in the sixth, ninth, or tenth cen- 


57 


turies, so it is to-day. I use the term Byzantine art 
for lack of a more accurate expression, just as one 
uses the word Gothic, which is understood by every- 
body, although it does not convey a strictly accurate 
meaning. It is plain to any man who has a knowledge 
of painting that Byzantine art flows from a different 
source than Latin art, that it has borrowed nothing 
from the Italian schools, that the Renaissance does not 
exist for it, and that Rome was not the metropolis of 
its ideal; it lives on itself without borrowing, without 
improving, for at the very outset it found its own 
proper form, which may be criticised from an artistic 
point of view, but which is marvellously adapted to its 
purpose. 

But, it will naturally be asked: Where is the centre 
of this carefully kept up tradition? Whence comes 
that uniform teaching which has come down through 
ages and has undergone no change in the various 
milieux it has traversed? Who were the masters 
obeyed by all these unknown artists, whose brush has 
covered the churches of the Greek ritual with such a 
multitude of figures that if it were possible to number 
them they would surpass in numbers the mightiest 


army? 


58 


$pttbbbetbtetehtbttt settee 
BYZANTIN ERART 


An interesting and learned introduction by M. 
Didron, prefixed to the Byzantine manuscript ‘ The 
Guide to Painting,” translated by Dr. Paul Durand, 
answers most of the questions I have just asked. The 
author of this “* Guide to Painting” is one Dionysius, 
a monk of Fourna of Agrapha, a great admirer of the 
celebrated Manuel Panselinos of Thessalonica, who 
appears to be the Raphael of Byzantine art, and some 
of whose frescoes still exist in the chief church of 
Kares, on Mount Athos. In a short preface, preceded 
by an invocation “ To Mary, Mother of God and Ever 
Virgin,” Master Dionysius thus states the object of his 
book: “I have sought to propagate the art of paint- 
ing, — which in the days of my childhood I had so 
much trouble in learning in ‘Thessalonica,— for the 
use of those who also wish to practise it, and to explain 
to them in this work with the greatest accuracy every 
measurement, the characters of the figures and the 
colours to be used for flesh and ornaments. I have 
further wished to explain the extent to which Nature is 
to be imitated ; the kind of work for each subject ; the 
various preparations of varnish, glue, plaster, and gold, 
and the mode of painting upon walls in the most per- 


fect manner possible. I have also indicated the whole 


59 


a A EE RE, SS EE 


TRAVIE LS IN(ROUSsi 


series of the Old and New Testaments, the manner of 
representing the natural facts, the miracles in the 
Bible, and at the same time the parables of our Lord, 
the inscriptions and the epigraphs which are suitable 
to each Prophet; the name and the character of the 
face of the Apostles and the chief saints, their martyrdom 
and a portion of their miracles according to the order 
of the calendar. I have stated the manner of painting 
churches and given other information necessary to the or- 
der of painting, as may be seen in the table of contents. 
I have corrected all these materials with much pains and 
care, assisted by my pupil, Master Cyril of Chios, who 
collected the whole with great attention. Therefore 
pray for us all of you, that the Lord may deliver us 
from the fear of being condemned as wicked servants.” 

This manuscript, a perfect manual of Christian 
iconography and of pictorial technique, goes back, 
according to the monks of Mount Athos, to the tenth 
century, but it is not so old and is probably of the fif- 
teenth century at the most; but the fact is of little 
importance, for the book unquestionably repeats ancient 
formule and archaic processes. Even now it serves as 
a guide. M. Didron, in an account of his trip to the 


sacred mount, where he visited Father Macarios, the 


60 


tttebittttttettttttttttas 
BYZANTINE ART 


best devotional painter next to father Joasaph, says: 
“This bible of art stood open in the centre of the 
studio, and two of the youngest pupils alternately read 
from it aloud, while the others were busy painting as 
they listened to the reading.” 

M. Didron wished to buy the manuscript, but the 
artist refused to part with it at any price, for without 
the book he could not continue painting ; however, he 
allowed a copy to be made of it. The manuscript con- 
tained the secret of Byzantine painting, and enabled 
the learned tourist — who had just visited the churches 
of Athens, Salamis, Triccala, Kalabach, Larissa, those 
in the convent of Meteors, of St. Barlaam, St. Sophia 
of Salonica, Mistra, and Argos — to understand how it 
was that he met everywhere with the same profusion of 
painted decoration, the same composition, the same 
costumes, the same ages, the same attitudes of the 
sacred personages. “It is,” he exclaims, “ surprising 
in its uniformity; as if a single thought, animating a 
hundred brushes at one and the same time, caused to 
bloom suddenly all the paintings in Greece.” 

Even now one might utter such an exclamation with 
just as much reason in presence of the frescoes which 


adorn most Russian churches. 


61 


ch os abe che oh ahs che he ch che he cbecde cheat cbe be che che che cde be hoc 
TRAVELS IN’ RUSSIA 


The workshop where these paintings are prepared, 
and where are trained the Byzantine artists, is at Mount 
Athos, which is really the Italy of the Eastern church. 
Mount Athos, a monkish province, contains twenty 
great monasteries, which form as many small towns, — 
ten villages, two hundred and fifty isolated cells, one 
hundred and fifty hermitages. The smallest monastery 
contains six churches or chapels, and the largest thirty- 
three, — altogether two hundred and eighty-eight. The 
villages or skites possess two hundred and twenty-five 
chapels, and ten churches; each cell has its own chapel, 
and each hermitage its own oratory. At Kares, the 
capital of Mount Athos, is seen what may be called the 
cathedral of the whole mountain, which the monks call 
the Protaton or Metropolis. At the top of the eastern 
peak which terminates the peninsula, rises the isolated 
church dedicated to the Metamorphosis or the Trans- 
figuration. ‘There are, then, on Mount Athos, nine 
hundred and thirty-five churches, chapels, and oratories. 
Nearly all are painted in fresco, and filled with paint- 
ings on panels. Inthe great convents most of the re- 
fectories are also covered with mural paintings. 

This surely forms a rich museum of religious art. 


The pupil-painter has no lack of subjects for studies 


62 


bbtbbbbbrbbbthtbbhbbbettbttst 


By ZA NVI N EAR) 


and of models to reproduce, for in the Byzantine school 
an artist’s merit does not consist, as it does in other 
schools, in inventing, imagining, exhibiting originality, 
but in reproducing in the most faithful manner the 
consecrated types ; the contours and the proportions of 
figures are settled, Nature is never consulted, tradition 
indicates the colour of the beard and the hair, whether 
they are long or short, the colour of the garments, 
the number of these, the direction and the thickness 
of the folds. 

In the representations of saints in long robes, an 
invariable broken fold is always to be found above and 
below the knee. In Greece, says M. Didron, the 
artist is the slave of theology; his work, which will 
be copied by his successors, is a copy of that of the 
paintings of his predecessors. The Greek artist is a 
slave to tradition as an animal is to instinct; he draws 
a figure just as a swallow builds a nest or a bee a cell; 
the execution alone is personal to him, for the inven- 
tion and the thought are the share of the fathers, of 
the theologians, of the Orthodox Church. Greek art 
takes no account of time or place: in the eighteenth 
century the Morean painter continues and copies the 


Venetian painter of the tenth, and the Athenian painter 


63 


Skeeeteteettettetttttetettse 
TRAVEUS IN“ RUSSre 

of the fifth or sixth. The “St. John Chrysostom ” in 

the Baptistery of St. Mark at Venice, is met with 

again in the Metamorphosis of Athens, the Hecatom- 

pile at Mistra, and the Panagia of St. Luke. 

M. Didron was fortunate enough to meet at Mount 
Athos, in the Esphigmenon Convent, the first which 
he entered, a Kares painter — the monk Joasaph, who 
was busy ornamenting with mural paintings the porch 
or narthex which leads into the nave of the church. 
He was assisted in his work by his brother, two pupils, 
one of whom was a deacon, and two apprentices. 
The subject which he was drawing upon the yet fresh 
coating applied to the wall, was Christ sending forth 
his apostles to preach the Gospels and to baptise 
all nations; an important subject, containing twelve 
figures almost life-size. He sketched the figures with- 
out making a mistake, in a firm hand, having for car- 
toon or model his memory only. While he was 
working the pupils filled up the contours of the figures 
and the draperies with the colours indicated, gilded 
haloes around the heads, or wrote the letters of in- 
scriptions which the master dictated while carrying on 
his own work. The young apprentices ground and 


mixed the colours. ‘These frescoes, says Didron, exe- 


64 


tP$etbbtbertbbettbttbttbttt 


mY ZAIN N Baa RT 


cuted with such rare rapidity, were better than the 
works of our painters of the second or third order in 
the religious style; and as he expressed surprise at the 
talent and knowledge of Father Joasaph, who found 
for each personage such an appropriate inscription, and 
supposed he was exceedingly erudite, — the monk re- 
plied that it was not so difficult as it seemed, and that 
with the help of the “‘ Guide” and a little practice, 
any one could do as much. 

I was now about to see at work, for myself, painter- 
monks like those of Mount Athos, devoutly following 


the teaching of the “ Guide;” a living school of 
Byzantines; the past working by the hands of the 
present, assuredly a rare and interesting fact. 

Five or six monks of various ages, were busy paint- 
ing in a large, well-lighted room with bare walls; one 
of them a handsome man, with a black beard and 
swarthy face, who was finishing a Mother of God, 
struck me by his look of sacerdotal gravity and the pious 
air with which he wrought; he was evidently much 
more full of devotional than artistic feeling, and 
painted as if he were celebrating Mass. His Mother 
of God might have been placed upon the apostle’s 


easel, so severely archaic was it, and so thoroughly 


mote tie— 5 65 


che che abe oho abe ob ob able oe abs abe abe cba ob obe arabe abr lee obs beste 
TRAVELS IN Rea sSor 


contained within the rigid and sacramental lines; the 
serious majesty of her great black staring eyes made 
her look like a Byzantine empress ; the portions which 
were to be covered by a plate of silver or gold metal 
cut out to allow the head and hands to show, were as 
carefully painted as if they were to remain visible. 
Other paintings, in a greater or less stage of advance- 
ment, representing the Greek saints, and among these 
St. Sergius, patron of the convent, — were being com- 
pleted by the laborious hands of the monkish artists. 
These paintings, intended to serve as ikons in chapels 
or private dwellings, were upon panels covered with 
gypsum, in accordance with the process recommended 
by Master Dionysius of Agrapha; they were somewhat 
smoky, and in no wise different from the paintings of 
the fifteenth or the twelfth century. The poses 
were as stiff and constrained, the gestures as hieratic, 
the folds as regular, the colour the same identical 
tawny, brown flesh-tint;—-in a word, they were 
wholly in accordance with the teaching of Mount 
Athos. ‘The process employed was white of egg or 
distemper, which was afterwards varnished. ‘The 
haloes and ornaments intended to be gilded were some- 


what raised in order to catch the light better. Could 


66 


detec ah bb cb bb bbb babel bob 
Be LANDIN BAAR TE 


the old Salonica masters have returned to this world 
they would have been satisfied with their Troitza 
pupils. 

But nowadays no tradition can be faithfully main- 
tained; among the obstinate adherents to the old 
formula, arise from time to time adepts less deeply 
conscientious; a new spirit manages to force its way 
into the old method by some fissure or another; even 
those who seek to follow the manner of the painters of 
Mount Athos and to preserve even in our age the un- 
changing Byzantine style, cannot help having seen 
modern paintings in which freedom of invention is 
joined to a study of Nature. It is difficult to keep 
one’s eyes constantly closed, so that even in Troitza 
the new influences had made themselves felt. In the 
metopes of the Parthenon, two styles are noticed, the 
one archaic and the other modern. A number of 
the monks conformed to the rule; a few of the younger 
men had abandoned the white of egg for oil, and 
while maintaining their figures in the prescribed atti- 
tude and copying the ancient model, they allowed 
themselves to give to the heads and to the hands truer 
tones and less conventional colour; to indulge in 


modelling and to seek for relief; they made the femi- 


67 


keteettteeeeeteeettetet tet 
TRAV EES) TN Ra Sey 


nine saints more humanly pretty, the male saints less 
theocratically Greek; they did not point on the chin 
of the patriarchs and the hermits the “ junciform” 
beard recommended by the ‘Guide to Painting ; ” 
their work approached more closely to painting, with- 
out, in my opinion, possessing its merits. 

This more suave and agreeable manner has a good 
many partisans, and examples of it are to be met with 
in several modern Russian churches. For myself I 
greatly prefer the old method, which is ideal, religious 
and decorative, and has the advantage of prestige, 
of forms and colours, outside of vulgar reality. That 
symbolical manner of presenting a thought by means 
of figures settled upon beforehand, like a sacred writ- 
ing, the characters of which it is not permissible to 
change, — strikes me as wonderfully adapted to the 
ornamentation of sanctuaries. Even in its rigidity 
there is room for a great artist to make his mark by 
splendour of drawing, grandeur of style, and nobility 
of contours. 

I doubt whether this attempt to humanise Byzantine 
art can prove successful. There is in Russia a school 
of Romanticist writers, full of enthusiasm like our own, 


for local colour, and it defends by learned theories and 


68 


dete abe deh ch ech ch che che echebedech doch cheek chee 
BYZANTINE ART 


‘intelligent criticism the old Mount Athos style on 
account of its antique and religious character, its deep 
conviction, and absolute originality, amid the produc- 
tions of Italian, Spanish, or French art. A correct idea 
of this controversy may be obtained by recalling the 
passionate defence of Gothic architecture, the diatribes 
against Greek architecture as applied to religious build- 
ings, and the parallels between Notre-Dame of Paris and 
the church of the Madeleine, which delighted the youth 
of 1830 to 1835. ‘here is in every country an era of 
false classical civilisation, a sort of learned barbarism, 
when countries fail to understand their own beauty, to 
know their own character, when they repudiate their 
own antiquities and costumes, and are prepared to de- 
molish, in seeking to attain an insipid idea of regu- 
larity, their most marvellous national edifices. Our 
own eighteenth century, in other respects so great, 
would willingly have razed cathedrals to the ground, as 
being monuments in bad taste. The portal of Saint- 
Gervais, by De Brosse, was in all sincerity preferred to 
the marvellous facades of the cathedrals of Strasbourg, 
Chartres, and Rheims. 

The nun seemed to look upon these Madonnas 


with blooming colours, not exactly with disdain, for 


69 


ttbottetttttttttbtttetetes 
T RIA V E 2S” DP NVEREERS Stee 


after all they represented a sacred image, worthy of 
adoration, but with much less respectful admiration. 
She stood longer before the easels on which were being 
wrought out paintings in the old method. In spite of 
my preference for the older style, I am bound to con- 
fess that some amateurs carry rather far, in my opinion, 
the mania for old Byzantine paintings. By dint of 
seeking for the artless, the primeval, the sacred, the 
mysterious, they become enthusiastic for smoky and 
worm-eaten panels, on which are but faintly discerned 
grim faces extravagant in drawing and impossible in 
colour. By the side of such images the most barbaric 
Christs of Cimabue would look like paintings by Vanloo 
or Boucher. Some of these paintings go back, it is 
claimed, to the fifth and even to the fourth century. 
I can understand that they should be sought after as 
archaic curiosities, but I cannot see how they can be 
admired from an artistic point of view. I was shown 
a number of them during my trip through Russia, but 
I confess I did not find in them the beauties that so 
greatly delighted their owners. In a sanctuary they 
may be venerable by bearing testimony to an antique 
faith, but their place is not in a gallery, unless it is an 


historical one. 


7O 


ShbbbbbEELEEEAALELLLALAL LSS 
BYZANTINE VAR T 


Outside of this Byzantine art, of which Mount Athos 


is the Rome, there is not yet any Russian art properly 
so called, and the few artists whom Russia has pro- 
duced cannot form a school; they have studied in 
Italy, and their works have nothing particularly national. 
The most famous of all and the one best known in 
the West, is Brulof, whose vast painting called “ The 


> 


Last Day of Pompeii,” made quite a sensation at the 
Salon in 1824. Brulof painted the cupola of St. Isaac’s, 
a great apotheosis in which he manifests much knowl- 
edge of composition and perspective. It is in a style 
which somewhat recalls decorative painting as it was 
practised about the end of the eighteenth century. 
The artist, who had a fine, pale, romantic, Byronic 
face, with quantities of long, fair hair, took pleasure in 
reproducing his own face, and I have seen several 
portraits of himself, by him, painted at different periods, 
which represent him as more or less worn, but always 
handsome, with fatal beauty. ‘These portraits, dashed 
off with free fancy, appear to be the best works of the 
artist. A very popular name in St. Petersburg is that 
of Ivanof, who during several years that he was busy 
working on a mysterious masterpiece, made Russia 


expect and hope for a great painter; but that is a 


71 


SLELLLALL AL LAELLALLL LALA ELS 
TRAV E DS? ON Rages 


legend which I shall have to treat separately, for it 
would carry me too far from my subject. I do not 
mean to say that Russia will never take its place among 
schools of painting; I believe that it will manage to do 
so when it frees itself from the imitation of foreigners, 
and when its painters, instead of going to Italy to copy 
models, take the pains to look around them, and to 
inspire themselves by the nature of the varying charac- 
teristic types of the immense empire which begins on 
the confines of Prussia and ends on the borders of 
China. 

Still preceded by the nun, enshrouded in her long 
black veil, I entered a laboratory, thoroughly equipped, 
in which Nadar would have felt perfectly at home. 
To pass from Mount Athos to the Boulevard des 
Capucines, is an uncommonly abrupt transition. To 
leave monks painting Panagias on golden backgrounds 
and to come immediately upon others coating glass 
plates with collodion, is the sort of trick which civilisa- 
tion plays one at the most unexpected times. The 
sight of a cannon aimed at me would not have sur- 
prised me more than the brass lens which happened to 
be pointing in my direction. It was impossible to dis- 


believe the evidence of my senses. The monks of 


72 


che deo abe to he che cba be cbeche obecbe ch chock hehehe ch bh 


eb ore 
BYZANTINE ART 

Troitza, the disciples of St. Sergius, were engaged in 
taking views of the convent and in making excellent 
prints from the negatives; they possess the best instru- 
ments, are acquainted with the latest methods, and 
manipulate their plates in a room the window of which 
is glazed with yellow glass—a non-actinic colour. I 
purchased a view of the monastery, which I still possess, 
and which has not faded much. 

In his account of his voyage to Russia, de Custine 
complains of not having been allowed to visit the 
Troitza library. I experienced no difficulty of this 
kind, and saw as much as a traveller generally sees of 
a library, in the course of half an hour: the backs of 
books handsomely bound and nicely arranged upon 
shelves in cases. Besides works on theology, Bibles, 
the works of the Fathers of .the Church, treatises on 
scholastics, Evangels, liturgies in Greek, Latin, and 
Slavonic, I noticed, in the course of my rapid inspec- 
tion, many French books of the eighteenth and seven- 
teenth centuries. I also glanced at the vast refectory, 
which has at one of its ends, a very delicately worked 
iron grille, through the iron arabesques of which gleams 
the golden background of the Ikonostas, for the re- 


fectory runs into the chapel, in order that the soul may 


73 


PREBLE ADLLALAPALALALALLLE LES 
TRAVEES TNyvRUSeIa 


be fed as well as the body. Our visit was over and 
the nun took me back to the Archimandrite, to take 
leave. 

Before entering the room the habits of the woman 
of the world overcoming the rules of monastic life, she 
turned towards me and bowed slightly, as a queen 
might have done from the steps of her throne; and in 
a faint, languishing and gracious smile, shone like a 
white flash, her brilliant teeth, preferable to all the 
pearls of Troitza. Then by a change as sudden as 
if she had drawn down her veil, she resumed her dead 
look, her spectral face of renunciation of the world, 
and with the steps of a phantom she knelt before the 
Archimandrite, whose hand she kissed piously, as if it 
were a paten or a relic. ‘Thereafter, she arose and 
vanished like a dream within the mysterious depths of 
the convent, leaving in my memory the ineffaceable 
remembrance of her brief apparition. 

There was nothing more to see at Troitza, and I 
went back to the inn to order our driver to bring out 
the carriage. [he horses having been harnessed to 
the kibitka by a lot of ropes, the driver seated upon 
a narrow seat covered with sheepskin, and we ourselves 


snuggling warmly under the bearskin, the bill paid, 


74 


ee 
pobbbbbbebetebdhhktddddktdeks 
BYZANTINE ART 


the tips given, there was nothing left but to perform 
the usual fantasia of a start at full galop; a slight click 
of the moujik’s tongue made our horses fly off like 
the mad steed that bore Mazeppa bound to its back, 
and it was only when we reached the other side of the 
slope, overlooked by Troitza, the domes and towers 
of which were still visible, that the fine little horses 


condescended to come down to a reasonable gait. 


75 


THE! MASKED “BAW yea 
THEATRES, “THE NUS 


Y evening I was back in Moscow, ready to go 
B to a masked ball which was to take place 
that evening, and for which I found tickets 
awaiting me at the hotel. Before the door, in spite 
of the intense cold, stood sleighs and carriages the — 
lamps of which shone like frozen stars. A warm 
blaze of light emanated from the windows of the 
building in which the ball was being held, and formed 
with the blue moonlight one of those contrasts which 
dioramas and stereoptical views affect. Having trav- 
ersed the vestibule, I entered an immense hall in the 
form of a parallelogram or playing card, set around 
with great pillars, resting on a broad stylobate, which 
formed a platform around the room, and from which 
steps led to the floor. ‘This arrangement struck me 
as excellent, and we ought to imitate it in rooms in- 
tended for entertainments; it enables those who do 


not take an active part in the pleasures of dancing, to 


76 


LLELLALA APA LAALAALSL LLL ALLE LS 
fee! MASKED BALL 


overlook the dancers without being in their way and 
to enjoy comfortably the spectacle presented by the 
animated throng. The platform divides and groups 
figures in a more picturesque, more splendid, more 
dramatic manner. Nothing is so disagreeable as a 
crowd on a level; this is why society entertainments 
are so inferior, as regards their effectiveness, to the 
balls at the Opera, with the triple row of boxes filled 
with masked guests, forming wreaths, and the com- 
pany of deébardeurs, titis, Pierrettes, Red-skins and 
babies, ascending and descending the stairs. 

Though the hall was decorated in the simplest 
manner, it was none the less bright, elegant, and rich; 
everything was white, walls, ceiling and pillars, relieved 
by a few quiet golden touches on the mouldings; the 
columns, covered with polished stucco, imitated marble 
admirably, and the light fell upon them in long, shining 
tears. On the cornices rows of tapers marked the 
entablature of the portico and helped out the brilliancy 
of the lustres; Thanks to the white colour of the hall 
the light equalled the brilliancy of the most splendid 
Italian @ giorno illumination. 

Undoubtedly movement and light are elements of 


enjoyment, but in order that an entertainment may 


77 


$pbbbtbtttrtttttttttttes 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA _ 


have full swing noise has to be added to it; noise, 
which is the breath and the song of life. The com- 
pany, although very numerous, was silent; scarce did 
a faint whisper pass like a murmur over the groups, 
making a low continuous bass to the sound of the 
orchestra. The Russians are silent in their pleasures, 
and after having once had the ears deafened by the 
triumphant bacchanal of Opera nights, one cannot 
help being surprised at their quiet and taciturnity. No 
doubt they are inwardly enjoying themselves very 
much, but they do not look as if they did. 

There were dominoes, a few masks, uniforms, black 
coats, a few Lesghin, Circassian and Tartar costumes, 
worn by wasp-waisted officers, but there was not a 
single typical costume which might be noted as be- 
longing to the country; Russia has not yet produced 


its characteristic disguise. Women, as usual, were in 


small numbers, yet it is women one goes to a ball to © 


meet. So far as I could judge, what is called the © 


demi-monde with us is represented here only by French © 


women exported from Mabille, by Germans, and by 
Swedes, who are sometimes wondrously. beautiful. 


Possibly a Russian feminine element may also form 


ies | el 


a part of it, but it is not easy for a foreigner to recog- 


78 


che tech abe abe che be he abe abe deeb debeche obec obec oh obeoh 
THE MASKED BALL 


nise it; so I give my remark for what it may be 
worth. . 

In spite of a few timid attempts to dance the “ can- 
can,’ a Parisian importation, the entertainment was 
somewhat slow, and the brazen blasts of the music did 
not greatly help it. ‘The arrival of the gypsies was 
awaited, for the ball was to be interrupted by a con- 
cert. When the gypsy singers appeared on the plat- 
form, an immense sigh of satisfaction was breathed by 
every one: at last the enjoyment was coming, the real 
entertainment was beginning. ‘The Russians are pas- 
sionately fond of gypsies and of their songs so full of 
exoticism and home-sickness, which make one dream 
of a free life in primitive nature, away from all the con- 
straints of divine and human laws. I share that passion 
to excess, so I elbowed my way through the press in order 
to get nearer the stage where were the singing girls. 

There were five or six of them, haggard, wild- 
looking young girls, with that sort of a shy look called 
out by brilliant light upon nocturnal, furtive, and 
vagabond creatures; they looked like does suddenly 
brought from a forest clearing into a drawing-room. 
Their costume was in no wise remarkable ; they evi- 


dently had left off their characteristic dress and put on 


79 


bbbbbb bbb bbbbbbbbd bat 


TRAVELS 4NwReGS oi: 


fashionable gowns to come to the concert; the con- 
sequence was they looked like ill-dressed ladies’ maids. 
But a single flutter of the eyelids, a black, wild glance, 
cast at random over the spectators, sufficed to revive 
all that was characteristic in them. 

The music began; it consisted of strange songs of a 
sweet melancholy, or a mad gayety, embroidered with 
infinite frituri, like those of a bird which listens to 
itself and is intoxicated with its own song; of sighs 
of regret for a vanished, brilliant life, with careless 
returns of a joyous, free humour that laughs at every- 
thing, even at lost happiness provided freedom remain ; 
of choruses interrupted by stamping of feet and cries 
well calculated to accompany those nocturnal dances 
that make upon the sward of clearings what are called 


>> 


“fairy rounds;”’ something like Weber, Chopin, or 
Liszt, in a wild state; sometimes the theme of the 
song was borrowed from some popular melody heard 
on every piano, but it disappeared under prolonged 
notes, trills,; ornaments, and caprices; the original- 
ity of the variations made one forget the common- 
placeness of the motive. The marvellous fantasies 
of Paganini on the “ Carnival of Venice,” may give 


some idea of these delicate musical arabesques of silk, 


80 


cheetah che he chs ch che checbecbecbecbe echo che che ce oh obec 
THE MASKED BALL 


ie 


gold, and pearls, embroidered on coarse stuff. A 
gypsy, a sort of fierce-looking rascal, brown as an 
Indian, and recalling the gypsy types so admirably 
reproduced by Valerio in his ethnographic water- 
colours, accompanied the song of the women on the 
cords of a big rebec placed between his legs, and on 
which he performed after the manner of Eastern musi- 
cians. Another tall fellow jerked about on the plat- 
form, dancing, striking his heels, tickling a guitar, 
marking the rhythm on the case of the instrument 
with the palm of his hand, making strange grimaces 
and uttering from time to time an unexpected shout. 
He was the “ gracioso,” the clown, the fun-maker of 
_the company. 

I cannot describe the enthusiasm of the listeners as 
they crowded around the platform. ‘They broke out 
into applause and shouts; they wagged their heads, 
they uttered cries of admiration, they took up the 
choruses. These mysteriously strange songs have a 
genuine power of incantation ; they induce vertigo and 
delirium and produce a most incomprehensible state of 
mind. On hearing them one feels an irresistible de- 
sire to leave civilisation forever and to travel through 


the forests, in company with one of those dark- 


Or. 11. — 6 81 


HLADCAALLAL EPS ALAA ttttttts 
TRAVELS) AN RUS re 


complexioned witches with eyes like lighted coals, for 
these songs, so majestically seductive, are indeed the © 
very voice of Nature, noted and seized in solitude ; 
that is why they trouble so deeply all those upon 
whom weighs heavily the complicated mechanism of - 
human society. 

While still under the charm of the melody, I was 
wandering dreamily through the masked ball, my soul 
was thousands of miles away: I was thinking of a 
gitana of the Albaycin at Grenada, who had of yore 
sung to me cop/as on an air which resembled those I 
had just heard, and the words of which I was seeking 
in some recess of my mind, when I suddenly felt my 
arm taken and in my ears whispered, in the sharp, 
thin, false voice of a humpback, affected by dominoes 
that desire to begin an intrigue, the well-known words 
—‘“] know you.” In Paris that would have been 
quite natural, since I have for many years frequented 
first performances, the boulevards, and the museums, 
so that I am as well known as if I were famous; but 
in Moscow this statement made at a masked ball, 
struck my modesty as being somewhat venturesome. 

The domino, whom I called upon for a proof of her 


assertion, whispered my name under the lace of her 


82 


bbbbbbbb bbb het bbe 
meee MASKED? BALL 


mask, pronouncing it very nicely with a pretty little 
Russian accent which the disguised voice did not pre- 
vent my noting. We began to talk, and the conversa- 
tion proved to me that if the Moscow domino had 
never‘met me before this ball, she at least knew my 
works thoroughly. It is difficult for an author so far 
away from the Boulevard des Italiens, to whom one 
quotes a few lines of his verse and of his prose, not to 
swell somewhat with satisfaction, as he breathes in 
this incense, which is the most delicate of all for a 
writer. In order to reduce my self-love to its proper 
position I was obliged to say to myself that the Rus- 
sians read a great deal, and that the least French 
authors have a larger circle of readers in St. Petersburg 
and Moscow than in Paris itself. However, in order 
to return the compliment, I did my best to be gallant, 
and to reply to the quotations by madrigals, which is 
rather difficult with a domino concealed in a satin sack, 
the hood pulled down over the head, and the lace of 
the mask as long as a hermit’s beard. The only thing 
that showed was a rather small hand, carefully gloved 
in black. This was too much mystery and it took too 
much imagination to be amiable; besides I have one 


defect which prevents my seizing very ardently adven- 


83 


Atte bh tb bbebebbbobhbbbtees 
TRAV E‘LS4LN SRUBSS Ty 


tures at masked balls: I am inclined to suppose that 
the disguise covers ugliness, rather than beauty ; that 
horrid piece of black silk, with its profile like that of a 
flat nose, its wrinkled eye holes, and its goat’s beard, al- 
ways seems to me like the mould of the face it covers, 
and I find it difficult to separate the one from the 
other; I occasionally suspect women to be ugly when 
masked, even though I[ am certain that they are young 
and well aware of their beauty. Of course I speak 
here only of the complete mask; the little black velvet 
mask which the great ladies among our ancestors wore 
when walking, allows the mouth, with its pearly 
smile, the delicate contours of the chin and the cheek, 
to show, and brings out by its intense black the rosy 
bloom of the complexion. It allows one to judge of 
the woman’s beauty without quite revealing it; it is a 
coquettish reticence and not a troublous mystery. The 
worst risk one runs is to come upon a Roxelane nose 
instead of the Greek nose one dreamed of, and that 
misfortune is easily got over. But the genuine domino 
may, when it is taken off, when the hour of love 
strikes, result in sinister discoveries which make a 
well-bred man feel uncommonly awkward. That is 


why after having taken two or three turns with her, I 


84 


bbbebbbb bh bbb bh bbe 


we ore 


Woe MASKED BALL 


took the mysterious lady back to the group which she 
indicated, and thus ended my intrigue at the masked 
ball in Moscow. 
_ My day had been pretty well filled: I had spent the 
morning in a convent, the evening at a ball; I had 
met a nun and a domino; [ had seen Byzantine 
painters and gypsies. Surely I deserved to go to bed. 
When travelling one learns the value of time better 
than in the course of one’s ordinary avocations. Stay- 
ing for a few weeks or at most a few months in a 
country to which one may never return, innumerable 
interesting things which will not again be seen attract 
one’s attention. Not a moment is to be lost, and the 
eyes, like the mouth at a railway restaurant, dreading 
the signal of departure, swallow double quantities at a 
time. Every hour is filled up. The absence of affairs, 
of occupation, of work, of bores, of visits to be re- 
ceived or paid, isolation amid strange surroundings, the 
perpetual use of a carriage, — lengthen out life singu- 
larly, and yet strange to say the time does not appear 
short. Three months of travel are the equivalent, so 
far as duration goes, of a year’s stay in one’s customary 
abode. At home the days which are unmarked by 
anything in particular, fall into an abyss of forgetful- 


85 


LBLELCHEALA ALA AAA SSS LA Ltt tts 
TRAVE'LS IN RUSSIA 


ness, without leaving any trace behind them; but 
when visiting a new country, the remembrance of un- 
wonted objects, of unforeseen acts, form guiding marks, 
indicate the time, measure it and make one appreciate 
its length. 

Apelles used to say, ‘Nulla dies sine linea: ” 
(for lack of the Greek I quote the Latin, for these are 
not the words the painter of Campaspes probably 
uttered.) The tourist has to modify the saying to his 
own use: ‘* No day without some sight-seeing.” In 
accordance with this precept, the day after my expedi- 
tion to Troitza I went to the Kremlin to visit the 
Museum of- Carriages and the Treasury of the Popes. 

A very interesting exhibition is that of the old and 
splendid carriages; coronation coaches, gala coaches, 
travelling and country carriages, post-chaises, sleighs 
and other vehicles. Man does as nature, he goes from 
the complex to the simple, from the enormous to the 
proportionate, from the sumptuous to the elegant. 
Carriage-building, like the fauna of. primitive times, 
has had its mammoths and mastodons. One is filled 
with astonishment at the sight. of those monstrous 
rolling ‘machines, supporting complicated apparatus, 
their’ springs in the form of tongs, their levers, their 


86 


ALEALALLLALLALAALLLLLL ELS 
THE MASKED BALL 


thick leather bands, their massive wheels, their tortu- 
ous goose-necks, the boxes as lofty as forecastles, the 
bodies as roomy as a modern apartment, the steps 
like a staircase, the outer seats for pages, the plat- 
forms for lackeys, the tops covered with traceried 
galleries, allegorical figures and plumes. It is a perfect 
world, and one wonders how such machines could 
move. Eight huge Mecklenburg horses could scarce 
manage to draw them. But if these carriages are bar- 
baric from the present point of view of locomotion, 
from an artistic point of view they are marvels. 
Every part is carved, ornamented, and wrought with 
exquisite taste. On the gilded backgrounds bloom 
lovely paintings done by master hands; detached from 
their panels they would figure honourably in museums. 
There are cupids, groups of attributes, bouquets of 
flowers, wreaths, coats of arms, fancies of all kinds. 
The windows are of Venetian plate glass ; the carpets 
the softest and richest that Constantinople and Smyrna 
could furnish; the stuffs would drive Lyons silk- 
Weavers to despair; the sides, backs and seats are up- 
holstered in splendid brocades, velvets, damasks, and 
brocatelles. The carriages of Catherine I and Cath- 


erine II contain card and toilet tables; and, a fact 


87 


REALL ALELLLAELALALALLLLL LS 
TIRtA ViETS, sIXNe aR ee 


worthy of notice, stoves of Saxony porcelain, coloured 
and gilded. ‘The state sleighs also display an ingen- 
ious contrast of form and a charming fancifulness of 
ornamentation. [The most curious thing however, is 
the collection of saddles for men and women, and har- 
nesses of all kinds. Most of them come from the 
East and were given to the Czars and Czarinas by the 
Emperors of Constantinople, the Grand Turk and the 
Shahs of Persia. “They display an incredible wealth of 
gold and silver embroidery on brocade or velvet, which 
disappear under it, and stars and sunbursts of gems; bits, 
chamfrons, and curbs are studded with diamonds ; and 
on the leather of the reins, richly embroidered with 
gold or coloured silk thread, are set uncut turquoises, 
rubies, emeralds and sapphires. Like the Asiatic bar- 
barian that I deserve to be, I confess that this ex- 
travagantly splendid saddlery charms me more than 
modern English saddlery, very fashionable no doubt, 
but so meagre of aspect, so poor as regards the stock, 
and so sober in ornamentation. 

The sight of these immense and sumptuous Cal- 
riages tells one more about the former life of the court 
than all the memoirs of Dangeau and other palace 


chronicles. It makes one think of vast lives impos: 


88 


$ebebbebbbtbtthettbtttbttt 
ita TM ASK ED “BALL 


sible to be lived nowadays, even with absolute power, 
for the simplicity of modern manners invades the 
dwellings of sovereigns. ‘The full dress for ceremonial 
days is now only a disguise which we hasten to throw 
off after the festival; save on the day of his coronation 
the Emperor never wears his crown, but either a mili- 
tary or civil head-dress like any one else ; and if he goes 
out to drive, it is no longer in a gilded coach drawn 
by white horses tossing their plumed heads. Formerly 
such magnificence was of daily occurrence; men lived 
familiarly in that splendour ; death was the only thing 
common to kings, great nobles, and common men, 
and the former passed before the dazzied earth like 
beings of another race. 

I was shown the Treasury of the Popes, which is 
also inthe Kremlin. It is the most amazing collection 
of wealth imaginable. ‘There are arranged in cases, 
the doors of which are half opened like the shutters of 
a reliquary, tiaras, mitres, caps of Metropolitans and 
Archimandrites, mosaics of gems, brocaded dalmatics, 
copes, stoles, robes of gold or silver cloth, all embroid- 
ered in figured patterns, or covered with inscriptions 
written in pearls. At Troitza I might well have 


believed there were no pearls left in the world, that 


89 


A 


TRAVE S 


the Troitza Convent had collected them all in those 
bushel measures : but there were just as many in the 
Treasury of the Popes. Innumerable were the silver, 
silver-gilt and gold ciboriums, chased, inlaid, engraved, 
circled with zones of enamels, ringed with precious 
gems; of crosses peopled with microscopic figures; of 
rings, of croziers, of fabulously rich ornaments; of 
lamps, of candlesticks; of books bound with plates 
of gold, constellated with onyx, agate, lapis-lazuli and 
malachite. “These I beheld behind the glass fronts, 
with that mingled pleasure and discouragement of the 
traveller who when he can devote a few lines only 
feels that he would need a whole monograph that it 
would take a life-time to write. 

That evening I went to the theatre, which is large 
and splendid, and recalls, in its general arrangement 
the Odéon at Paris and the Bordeaux Theatre. Such 
perfect regularity makes little impression upon me, and 
for my own part I should prefer the least archi- 
tectural fancy in its disorderliness and bloom, in the 
style of the Vassily Blajenny or the Granovitaia Palata, 
but that would be less civilised and would be con- 
sidered barbaric by people of good taste. Nevertheless 


I must confess that once the type is accepted the style 


go 


bbbbebhebbbbttttteteeee kes 
feat MASK EDSBALL 


of the Moscow theatre leaves nothing to be desired ; 
everything in it is grandiose, monumental and sumptu- 
ous; the red and gold chosen for the decoration of the 
hall, please the eye by their serious richness, favourable 
to dress; and the imperial box placed exactly opposite 
the stage, with its gilded staffs, its two-headed eagles, its 
coats of arms and its lambrequins, produces a majestic 
and splendid effect; it takes up in height two rows of 
boxes and happily breaks the curved lines of the gal- 
leries. As in La Scala, San Carlo and in all the great 
Italian theatres, a passage way runs around the 
orchestra stalls, and facilitates access to the seats ; — 
an access made still easier by another passage way left 
free in the centre. Nowhere is space parsimoniously 
economised as with us. It is possible to go in and out 
without disturbing any one, and to talk, from the out- 
side, with the ladies in the boxes. ‘The orchestra 
stalls, the first rows of which by a tacit convention are 
reserved to people of title, of high official rank and 
other important personages, —are very comfortable. 
A merchant, however rich and however honourable he 
may otherwise be, would not dare to sit nearer than 
the sixth or seventh row from the front. The same 


hierarchy is observed in the rows of boxes, at least 


gI 


Sbbbbbebbbbhbbbbbhbhbtbbbe 
TRAVELS AN RUSSIA 


such was the case at the time of my trip; but whatever 
the place which one takes it is certain to prove com- 
fortable : the spectator is not sacrificed to the spectacle, 
as is too frequently done in the theatres of Paris, and 
pleasure is not purchased at the price of torture. One 
enjoys the amount of space that Stendhal considered 
necessary for the proper appreciation of music, without 
being troubled by the enthusiasm of one’s neighbor. 
Thanks to the art of heating, which the Russians pos- 
sess in the highest degree, because it is with them a 
matter of life and death,—a pleasant, equable tem- 
perature is maintained everywhere ; and one does not 
run the risk, on opening the door or the window of 
the box, of being struck in the face by a blast of cold 
air. 

In spite of all its comfort, the Moscow theatre was 
not well filled that evening ; there were a great many 
empty places in the boxes and almost whole lines of 
stalls remained unoccupied, or at least here and there 
showed only a few groups of scattered spectators. It 
takes an enormous crowd to fill these vast theatres; in 
Russia everything is too large, and seems intended for 
the population of the future. It was a ballet night, for 


ballet and opera alternate in Russian theatres and are 


g2 


SSS 


thbbb bbb bbb bbe bebet 
THE MASKED BALL 


not combined as with-us. [I cannot remember the 
fable or the story of the ballet performed that day; it 
was as disconnected as any Italian one, and merely 
served to link together a series of steps suited to the 
talent of the dancer. Although I have myself drawn 
up ballet programmes and consequently understand 
pretty well the language of pantomime, I found it im- 
possible to follow the thread of the action through the 
pas de deux, the pas de trois, the pas seuls, and the evo- 
lutions of the “‘corps de ballet,’ which manceuvred 
w:th admirable ensemble and precision. What most 
struck me was a sort of mazurka performed by a 
dancer named Alexandrof, with a pride, elegance and 
grace far removed from the most unpleasant affectations 
of ordinary dancers. 

A traveller’s life is made up of contrasts. The 
next morning I went to visit the Convent of Romanoff, 
a few versts from Moscow. It is famous for its beau- 
tiful music. Like Troitza it has the external appear- 
ance of a fortress; within its vast boundaries are a 
great number of chapels and buildings, and a cemetery 
which looked particularly lugubrious on this winter ’s 
day ; gloomy indeed were the snow-covered crosses, 


the funereal urns and columns that broke through the 


93 


LEELAELLLADLLAALAL LAL AALALS 
TRAV E'LS EN, RUSS TA 


white sheet outspread over the dead like another shroud. 
One is haunted by the thought that the poor dead that 
are lying under their icy coverlet must be very cold 
and must feel more forgotten than ever, for the snow 
effaces their names and the pious inscriptions which 
accompany them and that recommend their souls to the 
prayers of the living. After a melancholy glance at 
these half-covered tombs, the deserted appearance of 
which was increased by the black foliage of the ever- 
green trees, I entered the church. ‘The gilded Ikono- 
stas amazed me by its prodigious height, which 
surpassed that of the most gigantic Spanish retables. 
Service was going on and | was straightway surprised 
to hear sounds like those produced by the double 
diapasons of our organs; for I knew that the Greek 
ritual does not admit of the use of these instruments. 
I soon found an explanation of the matter, for as I 
approached the Ikonostas I caught sight of a group of 
bearded chanters, dressed in black like popes; instead 
of singing with full voice as ours do, they strive after 
softening effects, and produce a sort of drone the 
charm of which it is easier to enjoy than describe. 
Imagine the sound produced on summer evenings by a 


flight of gray night moths; it is a grave, sweet and 
eee 


94 


POE Se Oe ey es me a aks SOI Danae ee ol SE Mee 


betbbbbbtbbtttbetttkb tes 
mae MASKED BALL 


penetrating note. There were about a dozen of them 
and I could tell the bass singers by the way they 
swelled out their chests while the melody issued from 
their lips, without these being perceptibly moved. 
The finest religious singing I have heard has been in 
the Imperial Chapel at St. Petersburg and in this Con- 
vent of Romanoff. No doubt we possess more learned 
and beautiful musical compositions, but the way in 
which plain-song is sung in Russia adds to it a myste- 
rious grandeur and inexplicable beauty. I am told it 
was St. John Damascene who, in the eighth century, 
was the great reformer of sacred music; it has been 
modified but little since, and it was the same chants, 
arranged for four voices by modern composers, that I 
heard. Italian influence invaded sacred music for a 
time, but not for long; and Emperor Alexander I 
would not permit any other singing in his own chapel 
than the old chants. 

On returning to the hotel, still full of this celestial 
harmony, I found letters recalling me to St. Petersburg, 
and I regretfully left Moscow, the real Russian city, 


with its Kremlin crowned with a hundred domes. 


he, 


deck oe ok be kek ok ob cb eee cece ch cede oe dec 
TRAVELS IN ROSSI 


hehe oh oh ch bh che ob whe che oe obs ofa cbs obo obs obs obs cbs che oby ohn obs obs ofe 


wre ee fs OFS OF OFS OFC 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


OR days, weeks, indeed for months I had been 
putting off my return to France. St. Peters- 
burg had proved a sort of frozen Capua in 

which I had allowed myself to be charmed by the 
pleasures of a delightful life; and it was hard for me, 
I confess it without shame, to return to Paris to resume 
the newspaper yoke which has bruised my shoulders 
for so many years. ‘To the great attraction of new 
things was added that of the most pleasant intercourse ; 
I had been petted, feasted, spoiled, loved even, at least 
I am conceited enough to believe it; and I could not 
part from all these things without regret. A new life 
had enveloped me, suave, caressing, and flattering, and 
[ found it difficult to throw off that soft pelisse. Yet I 
could not remain forever in St. Petersburg. More 
pressing letters constantly arrived from France, and the 
great day was at last definitely fixed. 

I was a member of the Friday Society, a company 


of young artists who used to meet every Friday, now 


96 


$t¢btebetettbbbbbtt tt thst 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


at the studio of one, now at the studio of another, to 
spend the evening in drawing, painting in water-colours 
or in sepia, improvised compositions which were sold 
by Begrof, and the proceeds of which were devoted to 
the assistance of some impoverished comrade. At 
about midnight a jolly supper closed the evening’s 
labours. It so happened that on the Friday, the day 
before I was to leave, it was my turn to treat the com- 
pany, and the whole band met at my lodgings, situated 
in the Morskaia Street. As usual the evening was 
begun with work ; everyone sat down to his desk, pre- 
pared beforehand, with a shaded lamp; but the work 
did not get on very well; we were all preoccupied, 
conversation interfered, and the sepia or Indian ink not 
infrequently dried up in their saucers between one 
touch and another. For more than seven months 
I had lived on a footing of true comradeship with these 
clever, sympathetic young fellows, lovers of the beauti- 
ful and full of generous ideas. Now I was about to 
leave, and when one parts who knows when one will 
ever meet again, especially when separated by a great 
distance, and when one’s lives, which have run together 
for a time, are about to resume their ordinary course. 


So a certain melancholy hovered over the Friday com- 


VOL. Il. —7 97 


cheek heh ob beh ch cb cheb ecbecbabecbcbecheehe be check 


CCS we CFS Ome CTE UTS PHO UTS Te 


pany, and the announcement of supper came very op- 
portunely to sweep it away. ‘[hetoasts drunk to my 
happy trip revived gaiety, and the stirrup cup was 
drunk at such length that my friends resolved to remain 
up till daylight, and to accompany me in a body to the 
railway station. 

Spring was on its way; the great break-up of the 
Neva had taken place, and only a few belated ice-floes 
were carried along by the current, to melt in the warm 
gulf henceforth open to navigation. The roofs had 
lost their ermine covering, and in the streets the snow, 
changed into a black slush, formed puddles and quag- 
mires at every step. The damage done by the winter, 
long masked by the white layer, now appeared clearly ; 
the pavements were disjointed, the roads broken, and 
our drojkis, roughly jolted from rock to rock, broke 
our backs and made us jump like peas in a gridiron. 
However, the bad state of the roads never prevents the 
izvochtchiks from going as if the devil was after them ; 
provided the two front wheels go with them, they are 
perfectly satisfied and do not trouble about their fare. 

We soon reached the railway station, and then 
thinking that the separation had come too soon, the 


whole company got into the carriage with me and in- 


98 


LEEAL ALE LALA LAALALALL LAL EAS 


wre eye we ore 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


sisted upon accompanying me as far as Pskof, at that 
time the terminus of the road. ‘This habit of escorting 
parents or friends who are leaving, strikes me as pecu- 
liar to Russia, and I think it is a touching custom: 
the bitterness of departure is softened by it, and solitude 
does not suddenly succeed embraces and handshakings. 
But at Pskof we had to part, my Friday friends re- 
turned to St. Petersburg, and [ felt that this was the 
final departure, that the real voyage was about to begin. 

I was not returning alone to France: I had for 
travelling companion a young man who had lived in 
the same house with me in St. Petersburg, and with 
whom I had soon formed a friendship. Although he 
was French he knew, wonderful to say, almost all the 
Northern tongues,— German, Swedish, Polish, and 
Russian; he spoke the latter as if it were his mother 
tongue. He had often travelled through Russia, in 
every direction, on every kind of vehicle, and in every 
temperature. When travelling he practised wondrous 
sobriety : could do without almost any food or drink, 
and stood fatigue amazingly, although apparently he 
was delicate and accustomed to the most comfortable 
life; but for him I never could have managed to return 


at that time of the year and over such wretched roads. 


eee SS SSNS 


99 


a a a 6 IS a 


LLKEKHLALLELEALELALLALLLLE LLY 
TRAV EILS! IN VRS Ge 


Our first care was to hunt through Pskof for a car- 
riage which we could hire or buy, and after much 
going and coming we found a sort of broken down 
drojki the springs of which did not seem very trust- 
worthy. We purchased it on condition that if it 
broke down before we had travelled forty versts the 
seller should take it back less a small commission. It 
was my prudent friend who bethought himself of this 
arrangement, and a very wise plan it was, as will pres- 
ently be seen. Our trunks were fastened at the back 
of the frail vehicle; we sat down upon the narrow 
bench, and the driver sent his horses off at a gallop. 
It was the very worst season of the year for travelling. 
The road was one long mudhole, somewhat more con- 
sistent by comparison with the vast sea of liquid mud 
which it traversed. To right, to left, and before us, 
the prospect was composed of dirty gray sky, resting 
upon a horizon of black, wet ground, with here and 
there the wild-looking, reddish branches of a few half- 
submerged birch trees, the gleam of pools of water, and 
log-huts on the roofs of which remained a few spots 
of snow, that looked like pieces of paper carelessly torn 
away. In the deceitful warmth of the temperature, 


there was felt, as evening came on, blasts of sharp 


I0o 


EE 
abe obs ab obs obs obs abe obs chs ob cba coche ob obs abe obo fe che che che abe aber abe 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


wind that made me shiver under my furs; the wind 
did not grow warmer as it blew over that mixture of 
ice and snow. Flights of crows marked the sky with 
black dots, and few with loud croaks to their night’s 
rest. It was not very gay, and but for the conversation 
of my comrade, who was telling me of one of his 
trips to Sweden, I should have become very melan- 
choly indeed. 

Moujik carts laden with wood travelled along the 
road, drawn by little horses bespattered like poodles 
and sending the mud flying about them; but on hear- 
ing the bells of our horses they respectfully drew aside 
and allowed us to pass. One of the moujiks was even 
honest enough to drive after us to bring up one of our 
trunks, which had fallen off, though we had not heard 
it, owing to the noise we were making ourselves. 

Night had nearly fallen and we were not very far 
from the post-house. Our horses were going like the 
wind, excited by the neighbourhood of their stable. 
The poor drojki jumped upon its weak springs and 
followed diagonally the flying animals, the wheels being 
unable to turn quickly enough through the thick mud ; 
a stone we struck gave us such a violent shock that we 


were nearly thrown into the quagmire; one of the springs 


IOI 


AADALALELLALALALLAL ALLL LLY 
I Red S SGA 


had broken and the forebody had separated from the 
rest of the vehicle. “he coachman got down and with 
a piece of rope repaired the broken carriage as well as 
he could, so that we managed to reach the relay-house. 
The drojki had not lasted fifteen versts. It was im- 
possible to think of continuing our trip in such an old 
rattle-trap; there were in the courtyard of the post- 
house no other carriages than telegas, and we had yet 
five hundred versts to go before reaching the frontier. 
In order that my readers may thoroughly grasp the 
horror of our situation a brief description of a telega is 
necessary. This peculiarly primitive vehicle is com- 
posed of two boards placed lengthwise on two axles, 
with two wheels apiece; narrow side planks border the 
boards; a double rope covered with a sheepskin is 
fastened to these and forms a sort of swing on which 
the traveller has to sit; the postilion stands upon the 
cross beam or sits down on a bit of board, and the 
trunks are piled up behind. To this machine are har- 
nessed five horses which a cabman would refuse at 
once, so wretched do they look when at rest; but the 
best race horses would find it difficult to follow them 
once they have started. This is not a mode of trans- 


port to be recommended to sybarites, but it is a very 


102 


tebbbbbretrettetettettees 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


rapid one, and a telega is the only kind of carriage 
which can stand being driven over roads broken by a 
thaw. 

We held a council of war in the yard. My com- 
panion said to me: “ You wait for me here; I shall 
drive on to the next relay and will return for you with 
a carriage if I find one.” 

“© What is that for?”’ I replied, rather astonished at 
his proposal. 


> 


“c Because,” replied my friend, refraining from smil- 
ing, “I have started on many a telega trip with 
comrades who appeared both courageous and robust ; 
they climbed proudly on to the swing and during the 
first hour confined themselves to making a few faces 
and indulging in a few contortions which they at once 
repressed ; then very soon with sore backs, sore knees, 
sore waist, their brain jolting about in their skull like a 
dry nut in a shell, they began to grumble, to complain, 
to lament, to curse ; some indeed even wept and begged 
me to let them get down or to throw them into a ditch, 
preferring to die of hunger and cold on the spot, or be 
eaten by wolves, to submitting any longer to such 
torture. No one of them ever travelled more than 


forty versts.” 


103 


Stee eeeteretettttttttees 
TRAV E'LS! IN RSG 


“You have too poor an opinion of me; I am nota 
soft traveller; the galleys of Cordova, the floor of 
which is formed of esparto; the tartanas of Valencia, 
which are like the boxes in which marbles are rolled 
in order to make them round, did not draw a single 
complaint from me; I have travelled post on a cart, 
hanging by my hands and feet to the sideboards. A 
telega cannot possibly surprise me. If I should com- 
plain you may reply to me as did Guatemotzin to his 
companion on the gridiron: ‘Do you suppose that | 
am on a bed of roses?” 

My proud answer seemed to convince him; the 
telega was harnessed, our trunks put on and we were 
off, | 

But what about dinner? for the Friday supper must 
have been digested by this time and a conscientions 
traveller is bound to give his readers the menu of every 
meal he takes on the road. We had only a glass of 
tea and a thin slice of brown bread and butter, for 
when one starts upon such extravagant trips eating is 
out of the question, as it is with postilions when they 
are riding post at full speed. 

I should not care to maintain the paradox that a 


telega is the most comfortable of carriages, yet it ap- 


104 


chsh oh oe che che che che ah che check che cbe bebe che choco ele of shook 


re ore oTe Te 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


peared to me more tolerable than I had expected, and I 
managed without too much difficulty, to keep my place 
on the horizontal rope somewhat softened by the sheep- 
skin placed upon it. As night fell the wind became 
cold, the sky was cleared of clouds, and the stars shone 
clear and bright in the sombre blue heavens, as if frosty 
weather were coming on. 

During a thaw cold spells are not infrequent ; the 
Northern winter finds it difficult to go back to the Pole 
and returns sometimes to cast handfuls of ‘snow in the 
face of spring. By midnight the mud was all hardened, 
the pools of water were frozen, and the heaps of 
petrified mud caused the telega to jolt worse than ever. 

We reached the post-house, easily known by its 
white facade and its pillared portico. All these relay 
houses are alike, and are built from one end of the 
empire to the other on one regular model. Our bun- 
dles and ourselves were taken off the telega and put on 
to another, which at once started; we were going at 
full speed, and objects vaguely seen through the 
shadows, fled in disorderly fashion on either side of the 
road, like a routed army, as if an unknown enemy were 
pursuing these phantoms. The hallucinations of night 


began to cloud my eyes, already heavy with sleep, and 


105 


bobbbbbbbbbehdbthttbodt des 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


in spite of myself dreams mingled with my thoughts; 
I had not gone to bed the night before and the absolute 
need of sleep caused my head to bob from one shoulder 
to the other. My companion made me sit down in 
the bottom of the carriage and held my head between 
his knees, to prevent my cracking my skull against the 
side boards. ‘The most violent jolting of the telega, 
which occasionally on sandy or miry places on the 
road, travelled over logs placed crosswise, failed to 
awaken me, but caused the outlines of my dream to 
deviate like the drawing of an artist whose elbow 
is shoved while he is working; a figure begun with the 
profile of an angel turns into the face of a little devil. 

I slept for about three-quarters of an hour and 
awoke rested and refreshed as if I had slept in my 
own bed. Speed is the most intoxicating pleasure; 
it is delightful to go along like a whirlwind, in the 
hurly-burly of bells and wheels through the great 
silence of night, when all men are resting, and one is 
seen only by the stars that wink their golden eyes and 
seem to point out the road; the feeling that one is 
doing something, travelling on, proceeding towards a 
distinct end, during these hours usually lost, fills one 


with curious pride, leads to indulgence in self-admira- 


106 


bettetttttttetebktbttkkbehhs 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


tion and makes one begin to despise somewhat the 
Philistines, who are snoring under their blankets. 

At the next relay the same ceremony took place: a 
most fantastic entry into the yard, and a rapid trans- 
shipment of our persons from one telega to the other. 

“ Well,” I said to my companion when we had left 
the post-house, and the postilion was sending his 
horses at full speed along the road, —“ I have not yet 
begged for mercy ; the telega has been jolting us for 
many a verst; yet my arms still stick to my shoulders, 
my legs are not broken, my backbone still supports 
my head.” 

“J did not know you were such a veteran; the 
worst is over now, and I fancy I shall not be obliged 
to drop you by the road side, with a handkerchief at 
the end of a stick, to call for help from the barouches 
or post-chaises which might pass through this deserted 
country. But since you have had a sleep it is your 
turn to sit up and watch; I am going to close my eyes 
fora few minutes. Do not forget, in order to keep 
up the speed, to thump the moujik in the back from 
time to time; he will pass it on with his whip to the 
horses. Also call him ¢ dourak,’ in as big a voice as 


you can: it will do no harm.” 


107 


whe che abs cls oll obs alle als che aby abe be le cle ob cls obs ole obs cle ale alls stoke 


yee ews ore are ofe we ore Sie Une ewe ave 


TRAVELS) EN. (RAGS See 


I conscientiously discharged the task allotted me, 
but I may as well state at once, in order to free my- 
self in the eyes of philanthropists of the reproach of 
barbarism, that the moujik wore a thick sheepskin 
coat, the wool of which deadened every outside blow : 
I might as well have been hitting a mattress. 

When day dawned I saw with surprise that during 
the night snow had fallen over the country we were 
about to traverse. Gloomy indeed did that snow look, 
for its thin layer only half covered, like a ragged shroud, 
the ugliness and wretchedness of the land soaked and 
softened by a recent thaw. On the slopes on which 
its narrow lines rose and fell it looked somewhat like 
the pillars of Turkish tombs in the cemetery of Eyoub 
or Scutari, which the sinking of the ground has caused 
to fall or to lean over in quaint attitudes. Presently 
the wind began to drive in great whirls a sort of fine, 
minute, pulverized snow, very much like hoar frost, 
which stung my eyes and that portion of my face 
which the need of breathing compelled me to leave 
uncovered. It is impossible to imagine anything more 
disagreeable than that wearing little torture, augmented 
by the speed of the telega, which was facing the wind. 


My moustache was soon constellated with white pearls 


108 


bebbbbbbbbethbth hte te tes 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


and bristling with stalactites, through which my breath 
issued vaporous and bluish like tobacco smoke. I was 
cold to the marrow, and I felt that unpleasant sensa- 
tion which precedes dawn, known to every traveller 
and every sort of nocturnal adventurers. However 
hardened to travelling one may be, a telega does not 
come up as a resting-place to a hammock, or even to 
the green leather sofas found everywhere throughout 
Russia. 

A hot glass of tea and a cigar which I enjoyed at 
the relay while the horses were being put to set me up 
again, and I proudly continued on my way, thoroughly 
enjoying the compliments of my comrade, who said he 
had never seen a Westerner bear up so heroically ina 
telega. 

l. is very difficult to describe the country we were 
traversing, as it appears at this time. It consists 
of slightly undulating plains, blackish in tone and on 
which are seen poles intended, when the snows of 
winter have effaced the roads, to show the way; in 
Summer they must look like telegraph poles out of 
work. Nothing is seen on the horizon but birch 
forests, sometimes half burned; scattered villages lost 


in the wastes and indicated only by their churches with 


109 


Steet beet eeretetettttetes 
TRAVELS IN RRBs 


their little bulbous cupolas painted apple green. At 
this moment, upon the dark background of mud which 
the frost of the night had hardened, the snow had cast 
here and there great bands like pieces of linen laid out 
on meadows to whiten in the dew; or if this com- 
parison seems to you too pleasing a one, like the 
galloons of white thread seen on the rusty black of a 
mortuary pall of the lowest class. The faint light 
which came through the vast gray cloud that covered 
the heavens, was lost in diffused gleams, and gave 
neither high lights nor shadows to objects. There 
was no modelling; the contour of everything seemed 
to be illumined with a mere, flat tint. In the dull 
light everything looked dirty, gray, washed out, wan, 
and a colourist would have been as disappointed as a 
draughtsman at this faint, undefined, vague landscape, 
which was morose rather than melancholy. But what 
consoled me and prevented my wearying, notwith- 
standing the regret I felt on leaving St. Petersburg, 
was the fact that we were homeward bound; every 
jolt through this gloomy country brought us nearer the 
Fatherland, and after seven months’ absence I will be 
able to judge whether my Parisian friends have or have 


not forgotten me. Besides, the very motion on a diffi- 


IIO 


decbechabeak be decks hh bbc cheb cb ch bebt 


ore we Te OO TO VFO 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


cult trip keeps one up, and the satisfaction of triumph- 
ing over obstacles takes away one’s mind from smaller 
troubles. When a man has seen much of a country 
and does not expect to constantly encounter enchant- 
ing persons, he becomes accustomed to those glimpses 
of nature which at times does poor work and _ nods like 
the greatest poets. More than once one feels tempted 
to say, like Fantasio in Alfred de Musset’s play: 
“That sunset is a failure. Nature is wretched to- 
night. Look at that valley yonder and at those miser- 
able clouds ascending that mountain. I used to draw 
landscapes like that on the cover of my books when I 
was twelve.” 

We had long since passed Ostrof, Registza, and 
other villages and towns, concerning which it will be 
readily understood I did not make very careful obser- 
vations from the top of the telega; but even had we 
remained longer in each one of them I could only have 
repeated descriptions already given, for all these places 
are alike: one always comes upon the same _ board 
fences, the same wooden houses with double sashes 
through which one gets a glimpse of an exotic plant, 
the same green painted roofs, the same churches with 


their five belfries, and their narthex adorned with 


III 


aa a an a Reece ci en a 


bttbbtebbbbbhtbbttetb hd 


ae Te Vie wre 


TRAVELS! IN ARS ore 


paintings after the Byzantine model. In the centre 
of it all stands out the post-house with its white facade, 
in front of which hang about a few moujiks in greasy 
tulupes, and a few yellow-haired children; as for 
women, they are rarely visible. 

‘The day was waning and we could not be very far 
from Dunabdourg. We reached it in the dying light 
of a livid sunset, which did not cause this city, in- 
habited mostly by Polish Jews, to look particularly 
attractive. The sky was like that one imagines in a 
painting representing a plague of a dull gray, full of 
morbid, greenish tints like those of decomposing flesh; 
under that sky the black houses soaked with rain or 
melting snow, and suffering from the ravages of winter, 
resembled piles of wood or filth half submerged in a 
village of mud; the streets were perfect quagmires, the 
melting waters flowed into them from all sides, seek- 
ing their lowest level, yellow, earthy, blackish, bearing 
with them an incredible quantity of nameless debris. 
Swamps of mud filled the squares, spotted here and 
there by islets of dirty snow that still resisted the west- 
ern wind. In this loathsome filth, which would have 
made a man sing a hymn in honour of Macadam, the 


telega wheels revolved like the paddles of a steamer 


Li 


tekekebetbbeehbbehbb beh 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


in a muddy stream, splashing the walls and the few 
passers-by, who wore long boots like oyster fishermen. 
We sank into this stuff up to the axles. Happily 
below this deluge the wooden pavement still existed, 
and although it was distorted by water, it did present at a 
certain depth a somewhat firm surface, which prevented 
our disappearing with our horses and our carriage, as 
one does in the quicksands of Mont Saint-Michel. 

Our pelisses, thanks to the constant spattering of 
mud, had become regular celestial globes with innum- 
erable constellations of mud, undescribed by astrono- 
mers ; and if it were possible to look dirty in Dunabourg 
people would not have picked us up with a pair of 
tongs. 

Single travellers are rare at this time of year; few 
people are bold enough to travel in a telega, and the 
only other possible mode of transportation is the mail 
carrier’s cart; but one has to book a place a long time 
ahead, and we had left suddenly, like a soldier who 
sees his leave nearly up and has to rejoin his regiment 
at any cost under pain of being considered a deserter. 

My companion went on the principle that one should 
eat as little as possible on trips like the one we were 


taking, and he was more temperate than a Spaniard or 


Pte ii. — 8 113 


pobbbbttbbtttbbbt td ttt ted 
TIRAVELS! IN VRS Sim 


an Arab. Nevertheless, when I represented to him 
that I was dying of hunger, not having taken anything 
since Friday night and it was now Sunday evening, he 
condescended to what he called my weakness, and 
leaving the telega at the relay house, started with me 
in search of food. Dunabourg goes to bed early and 
but few lights shone on its sombre facades. It was 
not easy to walk through the mud; at every step I 
took it seemed to me that an invisible bootjack was 
catching hold of my shoes by the heel. At last we 
saw a reddish light issuing from a sort of hovel that 
looked somewhat like a tavern. The reflection of the 
light was prolonged over the limpid mud in red streaks 
like blood flowing from a slaughter-house. It was not 
very appetising, but when one is as hungry as I was, 
these things matter little. We entered without allow- 
ing ourselves to be driven back by the sickening smell 
of the place, in which a smoky lamp was burning with 
difficulty in the mephitic atmosphere. “Ihe room was 
full of Jews of strange aspect, with long, narrow- 
chested coats like cassocks, shining with grease, the 
colour of which might have been black as much as 
violet, or maroon as much as olive; but which at that 


moment was of a shade which I will call condensed 
SE eee 


114 


ee A er oe en ae Ser 


bebbeeeeeeeeeteteteteees 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


dirt. “They wore queer-shaped hats with broad brims 
and enormous crowns; these had lost their colour, and 
were shapeless, greasy, the nap bristling in places, gone 
in others, old enough for the rag picker to refuse to 
have anything to do with them. And such boots! the 
glorious Saint-Amant alone could describe them; they 
were down at heel, worn out, twisted in spirals, whit- 
ened by layers of half-dried mud, like the feet of ele- 
phants that had long plunged through the Indian 
jungles. Several of these Jews, especially the younger, 
wore their hair parted on the forehead, and let fall 
behind their ear a long curl like a love-lock, a piece 
of coquetry that contrasted with their horrible filth. 
They were not the handsome Oriental Jews, heirs of 
the patriarchs who have preserved their biblical nobility, 
but horrible Polish Jews, who carry on in filth all 
manner of low trades and sordid industries. Yet 
lighted as they were, even with their thin faces, their 
restless, piercing eyes, their beards forked like fish tails, 
their sour complexions and their colouring like that of 
a smoked herring, they recalled Rembrandt’s paintings 
and etchings. 

These customers did not seem to be very profitable 


to the establishment; in the dark corners there were 


115 


LLELE ELLA LE ebb chch heh bebe 
FRAVELS' IN “RA5835 TX 


it is true, to be seen a few fellows slowly drinking 
down a glass of tea or vodka, but there was not a trace 
of solid food. Understanding and speaking German 
and the Polish tongue of the Jews, my comrade asked 
the tavern keeper whether he could not arrange to give 
us some kind of a meal. ‘This request seemed to sur- 
prise the man; it was the Sabbath day, and the food 
prepared the night before for this day, on which it is 
forbidden to do anything, had been devoured, crumbs 
and all. Nevertheless our starving appearance touched 
him; his pantry was empty, his fire was out, but he 
thought he might find some bread in the next house. 
He consequently gave orders to this effect, and in a 
few minutes we saw appearing amid this mass of 
human rags, bearing with a triumphant air a sort of 
flat cake, a young Hebrew girl of marvellous beauty, 
the Rebecca of “Ivanhoe,” the Rachel of “la Juive,” 
a real sun blazing like an alchemist’s macrocosm in 
the darkness of that sombre room. Eliezer at the 
well would have presented her with Isaac’s betrothal 
ring. She was the purest imaginable type of her race, 
a genuine biblical flower blooming, Heaven knows 
how, upon this dung-hill. The Shulamite of Sir 


Hasirim was not more orientally intoxicating. Such 


116 


PLPLAALEALLAALLALLALALLALELSA 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


gazelle eyes as she had! such a delicately aquiline 
nose, such lips, red as double-dyed Tyrian purple, that 
showed upon a mat pallor; such a chaste oval from the 
temples to the chin! well made to be framed within 
the traditional band. She held out the bread smilingly 
like the maids of the desert who bend their urn to the 
thirsting lips of the traveller; but smitten with admi- 
ration of her, I did not think of taking it. A faint 
flush coloured her cheeks when she perceived my ad- 
miration, and she placed the bread on the table. I 
uttered a suppressed sigh as I remembered that the age 
of passionate adventures had long since gone by for 
me; and while dazzling my eyes with the radiant 
apparition I began to bite at ‘the bread, which was at 
once uncooked and burned, but which seemed to me 
as delicate as if it had come from the Viennese Bakery 
in the Rue de Richelieu. 

There was nothing to keep us in the den; the lovely 
beauty had gone; her disappearance causing the smoky 
room to look even darker than before, so we returned 
to our telega with a sigh, remarking that it was not al- 
ways velvet jewel-cases that contained the finest pearls. 

We soon reached the bank of the Dvina, which we 
had to cross. The banks are high and the bed of the 


117 


“ 


LED AALA LA LSELAKALALELE*L “ESS 
TRAVE'LS IN ARIS 3S Pe 


river is reached by pretty steep board inclines. For- 
tunately the skill of the postilions is marvellous, and 
the little Ukraine horses are very sure footed. We 
got down without accident and in the darkness we 
could hear the waters boiling and seething. The 
stream is crossed neither by a bridge of boats nor by a 
ferry, but by a series of rafts placed end to end and 
bound together by cables; this enables them to resist 
better the swelling of the waters, as they rise and fall. 
The crossing, though not really dangerous, was some- 
what terrifying. The stream swollen by the melting 
snows, flowed full, and fought against the obstacles 
presented by the rafts, the cables of which it stretched 
taut. At night water easily assumes a lugubrious and 
fantastic appearance; gleams of light, falling no one 
can tell whence, move about like phosphorescent ser- 
pents; the foam sparkles in a strange way that makes 
the dark seem darker. One appears to be floating 
upon an abyss, and it was with a feeling of satisfaction 
that we reached the other bank, carried away by our — 
horses that galloped up the slope almost as op as 
they had galloped down the opposite one. 
We were flying again over the great black stretches, — 
getting merely a glimpse of shapes that vanished from — 
Te Se ee 


118 


ap gn et pt enc ancestral eal scans ee 


LLLLL ALE LL ELE eet eet 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


my memory as swiftly as they passed before my eyes, 
and of which no description can give any idea. “These 
faint visions which arise and vanish as one rides along, 
are not without a certain charm of their own; it is 
like galloping through a dream; the glance would like 
to penetrate the vague, cotton-wool like obscurity 
in which all the contours are softened, and where the 
various objects are merely darker spots. 

I was thinking of the lovely Jewess whose face I 
was imprinting deeply in my memory, like a draughts- 
man who goes over the outlines of his sketch lest it 
should be effaced; I tried to remember how she was 
dressed but I could not succeed in doing so; I had 
been so absolutely dazzled by her beauty that I had 
seen her face only; all the rest was plunged in 
shadow ; the light was concentrated upon her, and if 
she had been dressed in gilded brocade flowered with 
pearls it would not have been noticed any more than a 
cotton rag. 

At day-break the weather changed and turned de- 
cidedly wintry. Snow began to fall, but this time in 
great flakes ; layer. fell upon layer and soon the country 
was white as far as we could see. Every moment we 


were obliged to shake ourselves in order not to be 


11g 


eee 


LELEEAELE LESSEE ee eee eee 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


buried in the telega, but it was lost labour: in a few 
moments we were again dusted all over like tarts 
sugared by the confectioner. The silvery down 
mingled, ascended and fell under the breath of the 
wind; it was just as if innumerable feather beds were 
being emptied from on high, and we could not see four 
yards ahead through the whiteness. The little horses 
impatiently shook their wild manes: the wish to get 
away from the storm lent them wings and they gal- 
loped at full speed towards the relay in spite of the 
resistance offered to the wheels by the new fallen snow. 

I have a queer love of snow and nothing delights 
me so much as that glazed rice powder which whitens 
the brown face of the earth. I prefer its virginal, im- 
maculate whiteness, which sparkles like Parian marble, 
to the richest tints; and when I am travelling over a 
snow-covered road I feel as if I were walking on the 
silver sands of the Milky Way. On this occasion I 
must own, my taste was too largely gratified, and our 
situation in the telega began to be unbearable; even 
my friend, impassible though he was and accustomed 
to the rigour of hyperborean travelling, agreed that we 
should be more comfortable by the side of a stove ina | 
well closed room, or even in an ordinary post-chaise, — 


120 
so ee 


tptbebtebetettttttttttb bee 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


supposing a post-chaise could have travelled in such 
weather. 

The storm soon changed to a blizzard. Strange 
indeed is this down-flecked tempest: a low wind 
sweeps the earth and drives the snow onward with 
irresistible violence ; white, smoky clouds cover the 
ground with whirling flakes like the frozen smoke of a 
Polar conflagration. When the blast strikes a wall it 
heaps up the snow against it, soon tops it and falls on 
the other side like a cascade. In one moment ditches 
and beds of streamlets are filled up; roads disappear 
and can be traced only by means of the guide poles. 
If one were to stop one would be buried in five or six 
minutes as under an avalanche. ‘Trees bend, posts 
yield, animals bow their heads to the wind that carries 
along those vast masses of snow. It is the khamsin 
of the Steppes. 

This time it is true, the danger was not very great; 
it was daylight; the quantity of snow which had fallen 
was not very great, and we could enjoy the spectacle 
almost without peril. But at night a blizzard may 
very well overwhelm and destroy you. 

Sometimes there passed through the whiteness, like 


black cloth rags, flights of crows or ravens, borne 


Oe a | 


7 “a 


che che che abe abe abe cheb abe ob obe be abe obo be be abe cbr be 


me ae CTO wre 


ERAV ELS dN Regs 


along by the wind, upset and capsised on the wing. 
We also met two or three moujiks’ carts trying to 
regain their huts and fleeing before the tempest. 

It was with genuine satisfaction that we faintly saw 
on the edge of the road through these chalky hatchings 
that crossed in every direction, the post-house with its 
Greek portico. No building ever appeared to me so 
sublime. In a twinkling we were out of the telega, 
we had shaken off the snow from our. fur coats, and 
had penetrated into the travellers’ room with its warm 
temperature. At the relay houses the samovar is kept 
constantly boiling and a few sips of tea as hot as my 
palate could bear soon restored the circulation of my 
blood, somewhat cooled by so many hours spent in the 
icy air. 

“J would willingly undertake with you a voyage 
of discovery to the North Pole,” said my friend, ‘and 
I think you would prove a charming companion. 
How comfortably we could live in a snow hut with 
plenty of pemmican and bears’ hams.” 


“J am proud of your approbation, for I know that 


you are not naturally a flatterer; but now that I have | 


sufficiently proved that I can resist jolts and the weather, 


it seems to me it would not be a proof of cowardice if 


ha 


tttebetbetbtetttttttte tes 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


we tried to discover a pleasanter way of continuing our 
trip.” 

‘Let us go and see if there be in the yard any car- 
riage less open to the weather: useless heroism is mere 
braggadocio.”’ 

The yard, half filled up with snow which men with 
brooms and shovels were trying in vain to throw back 
into the corners, presented a very curious sight. It 
was filled with telegas, tarantasses, and drojkis, the poles 
and shafts of which rose in the air like the yards and 
masts of half-sunken ships. Beyond these primitive 
vehicles we discovered through the innumerable white 
flakes that whirled in the blast of the gale, something 
like the back of a whale cast ashore in the foam; it 
was the leather hood of an old barouche which in spite 
of its worn-out appearance we hailed as an ark of safety. 
The other vehicles were drawn aside; the barouche 
was pulled into the centre of the yard and we ascer- 
tained that the wheels were in good condition, the 
springs fairly solid, and that if the windows did not close 
very tight, at least none were lacking. It is true that 
we should not have presented a very fine appearance 
in such a trap in the Bois de Boulogne, but we did not 


propose to drive round the lake and to excite the ad- 


123 


cebecadesacseeeauaneeees 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


miration of the ladies. We were very glad to hire it 
to take us to the Prussian frontier. 

It took but a few moments to transfer our trunks 
and ourselves to this concern and we were off at the 
same rate as before, — somewhat more slowly, however, 
on account of the violence of the wind which drove 
before it clouds of icy snow. Although we kept every 
window closed there was soon a ridge of snow upon 
the empty seat. Nothing is sufficiently close to keep 
out that impalpable white powder, crushed and sifted 
by the gale; it makes its way through the least fissures 
like the sand of the Sahara, and even into the case of a 
watch. But as neither of us was a sybarite grumbling 
at a crumpled rose leaf, we enjoyed with deep delight 
the relative comfort: we could at least lean our backs 
and our heads against the old green cloth lining, not 
very well stuffed it is true, but infinitely preferable to 
the rope of thetelega. If we dropped off to sleep we no 
longer ran the risk of falling and breaking our necks. 

We turned the situation to account to snatch a little 
sleep, each in one corner, but without allowing ourselves 
to slumber too soundly, for this is occasionally dangerous 
in a very low temperature, the thermometer having fallen 


nearly to zero under the influence of the icy snow. 


124 


a 


") 


eeehbELebeebetett tet eses 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


But little by little the gale died down, the flakes of snow 
suspended in the air fell to the ground, and we could see 
the country, white all over as far as the eye could reach. 

The weather became much milder. We traversed 
the Vilia, which flows into the Niemen near Kovyno, by 
means of a ferry which was adjusted to the level of the 
low banks of the river, and we reached the city, which 
looked well under the fresh fallen snow. The post- 
house stood on a handsome square, surrounded by 
regular buildings and planted with trees which at that 
moment resembled constellations of quicksilver. Onion 
and pine-apple shaped steeples rose here and there 
above the houses, but I had neither time nor courage 
to visit the churches they indicated. 

After a slight meal of sandwiches and tea we had 
horses put to the barouche in order to traverse the 
Niemen by daylight, for the days are not very long in 
the month of February in this latitude. Several vehi- 
cles, telegas and carts, were traversing the river at the 
same time; and when we were half way across the 
yellow, turbulent water almost reached upto the beams 
which formed the gunwale of the boats; they yielded 
to the pressure and came up again as the teams pro- 
gressed towards the other bank. If any horse had 


OE ———————————————————— ee ee 


125 


SS SSS ees, o 


tkbbetbebbbbbbbhbhe bt 


TRAVELS! IN WRSS Sie 


taken fright it would have been the easiest thing in the 
world to be upset in the current with all our belongings; 
but Russian horses although very spirited, are very 
gentle and do not take fright for so small a matter. 

A few moments later we were galloping towards the 
Prussian frontier, which we expected to reach during 
the course of the night in spite of the groans and the 
clatter of iron work of our poor barouche, heavily 
jolted but which nevertheless kept together and did not — 
faithlessly drop us on the road. 

‘Towards eleven o’clock we reached the first Prussian 
outpost, from where we were to send back the carriage 
to the relay where we had obtained it. 

‘¢ Now,” said my companion, ‘that we no longer 
have to perform acrobatic exercises upon awful carts, 
it would be wise to sup quietly and to get our com- 
plexions up again, so as not to look like spectres when 
we reach Paris.” 

It may easily be believed that I made no objection 
to this brief but substantial discourse, which so accu- 
rately interpreted my own thoughts. 

When I was a small boy I used to fancy that the 
frontiers of countries were marked on the ground with 


a blue, red or green tint, as on maps. It was a foolish 


126 


a 
debe hbk heb bbb cbcheh bob 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


and childish notion, but although the line of demarca- 
tion is not drawn with a brush, it is none the less 
abrupt and distinct ; at a spot indicated by a white post, 
with diagonal stripes, Russia ended and Prussia began 
in sudden and complete fashion. The neighbouring 
country did not run into it nor it into the other. 

We were shown into a low room provided with a 
great China stove that roared harmoniously ; the floor 
was strewn with yellow sand; a few framed engravings 
adorned the walls; the tables and chairs were of Ger- 
man shapes; and the table was laid by tall buxom 
maids. It was long since we had seen women em- 
ployed in these domestic matters which seem to belong 
more to their sex; in Russia and the East it is men 
who wait upon you, at least in public. 

The cookery was different; —beer soup, veal with 
currants, hare with red currant jelly, and sentimental 
German pastry took the place of chtchi, caviare, 
ogourtsi, grouse, soudaks; everything was different, 
the shape of the glasses, the knives, the forks, innumer- 
able trifles which it would take too long to enumerate, 
proved constantly that we had passed into another 
country. We washed down the copious meal with a 


bottle of Rudesheimer poured into roemers of an em- 


P27 


ALELEALE PL SSE SSE LLAALL ELS 
TRAVELS! IN SRS Stee 


erald colour and claret that proved excellent in spite of 
its pompous etiquette, printed with ink that had a me- 
tallic reflection. 

While dining I exerted myself to moderate my mad 
voracity, in order not to die of indigestion as do ship- 
wrecked people picked up from the raft on which they 
have consumed, having exhausted their scanty score of 
biscuit, the leather tops of their shoes and the elastics 
of their braces. If I had been wise I would have 
taken only a cup of broth and a biscuit dipped in 
Malaga wine, so to accustom myself somewhat to food; 
but let us hope my supper will not give me any trouble. 

Costumes had changed. At Kovno we had seen the 
last tulupes and the faces were no more alike than 
the clothes. Instead of the vague, pensive look of the 
Russians, we now beheld the stiff, methodical, formal 
look of the Prussians, who are a very different race. 
Little low caps, with visors well down on their fore- 
heads; short tunics, trousers tied at the knees and full 
on the legs, porcelain or meerschaum pipes or else an 
amber cigar-holder curiously angular, in which the 
cigar sticks straight up. In this guise did the Prus- 
sians appear to me at the first post; I was not sur- 


prised for I was already acquainted with them. 


128 


see cece ce ns ety et pa 


deeb adele ce hea oh abe ce check cbecde cde cc ceed ce abe och 
HOMEWARD BOUND 


The carriage into which we got was like those small 
busses used in country houses to fetch from the rail- 
way station the Parisian guests expected to dinner. It 
was comfortably upholstered; the windows closed 
tight, and it was hung on good springs, at least it 
appeared to us to be so, after the telega trip we had 
just finished and which fairly represents the torture of 
the strappado in use in the Middle Ages. But what a 
difference there was between the mad speed of the 
little Russian horses and the phlegmatic trot of the 
great, heavy Mecklenburg steeds that seemed to go 
to sleep as they travelled and which were scarcely 
awakened by the caressing touch of the whip noncha- 
lantly applied to their fat quarters. German horses 
are no doubt acquainted with the Italian proverb: Chi 
va piano va sano.” ‘They turn it over in their mind as 
they raise their big hoofs, but drop the second half: 
“Chi va sano va lontano,” for Prussian relays are much 
closer to each other than Russian. 

All the same, even though we did not go fast, we 
did get along and morning found us not far from 
Koenigsberg, on a road bordered by great trees and 
which stretched as far as we could see. It had a really 


fairy-like appearance; the snow had frozen on the 


VOL. 11. —9 129 


cbecde obs ebe abe abe boob heed be tached doles ool abe too de sh 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


branches of the trees, and outlined the ane twigs 
with diamond crystals of extraordinary brilliancy, mak- 
ing the avenue look like an immense archway of silver 
filigree, leading to the enchanted castle of a Northern 
fay. The snow, it will be seen, knowing the love 
I felt for it, was lavishing its wonders upon me at the 
moment of leaving us, and regaling me with its brilliant 
spectacle. Winter was accompanying us as far as it 
could and found it difficult to leave us. 

Koenigsberg is not a very gay city, at least at this 
time of year; the winter is very severe and the win- 
dows still had on their double sashes. I noticed several 
houses with crow-foot gables, the facades painted pale 
green, and blazing with richly ornamented S’s as at 
Liibeck. Koenigsberg is the native city of Kant, who 
brought back philosophy to its real essence by his 


“Criticism of Pure Reason.” I fancied I could seé him 


at every street corner, in his iron-gray coat, his three- 


cornered hat, and his shoes with buckles, and I thought 
of the disturbance of his meditations, due to the absence 
of a slender poplar which had been cut down, and on 
which for more than twenty years he had been accus- 
tomed to gaze while sunk in his deep metaphysical 


reveries. 

ee a rr 
130 

ee ee 


bbb bbb bbb bh bebe 


ore of ofe ee ete ove 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


We went straight to the station and each secured a 
corner in the carriage. We went at one stretch to 
Cologne, where first we got rid of the snow. ‘There, 
as the trains did not connect, we were obliged to make 
a short stay, which we turned to account to regain 
something of the human aspect, for we looked like 
Samoyedes who had come to exhibit reindeer on the 
Neva. The rapidity of our telega trip had produced a 
curious variety of damage in our trunks :—the black- 
ing of our boots had rubbed off and the bare leather 
showed; a box of excellent cigars was reduced to a 
state of powder; the seals of letters entrusted to us 
had been broken away; several of the envelopes had 
opened, and there was even snow between my shirts. 
Having put these matters in order we went to bed after 
an excellent supper. The next day, five days after 
leaving St. Petersburg, I reached Paris, at nine in the 
evening, fulfilling my formal promise. We were only 
five minutes late. A coupé was waiting for me at the 
station and a quarter of an hour later I was among old 
friends and pretty women, in front of a table blazing 
with light, on which smoked a delicate supper; and 


my return was joyously celebrated until the dawn. 


a a Se bet at Se ee ee ee ee 


131 


ee a a a a a I a a a 


Whos Fg | y maine Pe et da 7. 


4 A J 
‘ \ ® of , 
bie See 

4 
4' 3 


Se 


thebe eee beteteteteeteeee 


TRAVELS INFROUSSIA 


PART IIT —SUMMER IN RUSSIA 


ade ae chee abe oh oh ob check fected checks to eee oe cece 


we 


eee LGA FROM TVER TO 
NIJNI-NOVGOROD 


FTER my long stay in Russia I found it 

somewhat difficult to fall in again with 

Parisian ways; my thoughts often returned 

to the banks of the Neva, and fluttered 

around the cupolas of Vassily Blajenny. I had seen 

the Empire of the Czars in winter only, and I wished 

to traverse it in summer, on those long days when the 

sun sets for but a few minutes. I was acquainted with 

St. Petersburg and Moscow but I knew nothing of 

Nijni-Novgorod, and how was it possible to live with- 
out having seen Nijni-Novgorod ? 

How comes it that the names of certain cities irresist- 

ibly master your imagination and murmur in your ears 


for years, with a mysterious harmony like musical phrases 


a>) 


caught by chance and which one cannot get rid of? 
The strange haunting is well known to all those whom 
an apparently sudden resolve drives from their country 
to the most unexpected places. “The demon of travel- 
ling whispers syllables of incantation while you work 
or read, while you are happy or sorrowful, until you 
are compelled to obey. ‘The wisest plan is to resist 
the temptation as little as possible, the sooner to be rid 
of it; once you have inwardly consented you need not 
trouble any more: let the spirit that suggests the 
thought do the rest ; under its magic influences obstacles 
vanish, ties are loosened, leave is granted, and money, 
which could not be obtained for the most honourable 
and the legitimate needs, comes to you delighted and 
ready to serve as a viaticum. ‘The passport goes of 
itself to be covered with stamps at the legations and 
embassies ; your clothes pack themselves in your trunk, 
and it turns out that you happen to have a dozen brand 
new shirts, a new suit of blacks’and an overcoat fit to 
resist the most varied freaks of weather. 
Nijni-Novgorod had long cast that irresistible spell 
upon me. No melody sounded so delightfully in my ears 
as its dim, distant name; I repeated it unconsciously 


like a litany, with a feeling of individual pleasure ; its 


134 


EE VO GA 


configuration took my fancy as if it were an arabesque 
of curious design. The collocation of the “i’’ and 
the “‘j,” the alliteration produced by the final “ ‘33 the 
three dots marking the word like notes to be length- 
ened, — charmed me in a way that was at once puerile 
and cabalistic. ‘The “‘v ” and the “g”’ of the second 
half of the name, also had their peculiar attraction, 
while the “od” had about it an imperious, deci- 
sive and conclusive air which made any objection 
impossible. So after a few months’ struggle I felt I 
must go. | 

A genuinely plausible motive, the necessity of going 
to Russia to collect materials for a great work on the 
treasures of art of that country, a work on which [| 
had been engaged for several years, had brought me 
already, without too much improbability in the opinion 
of sensible people, to that original and singular city of 
Moscow, which I had formerly seen crowned by 
winter with a silver diadem, and its shoulders covered 
with a mantle of snowy ermine. That was three- 
quarters of the way. With a farther stretch to the 
East I should attain my end. ‘The demon of travel 
had arranged things in the most natural manner pos- 


sible: in order that nothing should keep me back it 


135 


tebbtttetttetetttteeetes 
TRAVELS’ IN) RSoa 


had sent abroad or else to their estates, the people 
whom I ought to have seen; so there was no obstacle, 
no pretext, no remorse to prevent my satisfying my 
desire. I collected my materials in haste, but while 
I was visiting the marvels of the Kremlin, the name of 
Nijni-Novgorod, traced by the tempter’s finger, shone 
in capricious Slavonic characters, mingled with flowers 
upon a dazzling background of gold plate and 
Ikonostases. 

The simplest and shortest way was to take the line 
of railway which goes from Moscow to Vladimir, and 
then to post to Nijni; but the fear of not obtaining 
horses, for it was the time of the famous fair which col- 
lects in the city three or four hundred thousand people 
of all countries, made me prefer the roundabout way 
so rarely chosen to-day. “he Anglo-American maxim : 
‘Time is money,” is far from being mine, and I am 
not a tourist always in a hurry to reach his destination. 
Travelling in itself is what most interests me. 

Contrary to middle class wisdom I began by retro- 
grading as far as Tver, in order to take the Volga 
almost at its source, where I would entrust myself to 
its peaceful current, and thus be carried indolently to 
my destination. So little eagerness after such lively 


136 


Lebbbhbbebebhbbbbt bee 
THE VOLGA 


desire may perhaps surprise my reader, but as I was 
now sure of seeing Nijni-Novgorod I was no longer in 
a hurry. No doubt the vague apprehension ‘ which 


>> 


makes man fear the fulfilment of his wish,” influenced 
me unconsciously and moderated my impatience. 
Would the city I had dreamed of vanish at my ap- 
proach at the breath of reality like unto the banks of 
clouds on the horizon which assume the form of domes, 
towers, necropolis, and which a breath of wind changes 
or sweeps away ! 

Too faithful to the motto of railways: linea recta 
brevissima, the rigid railway from St. Petersburg to 
Moscow leaves Tver on one side and [ had to reach it 
in one of the fast drojkis which in Russia never fail the 
traveller, and seem to spring from below ground at the 
call of his desire. 

The Hotel de la Poste, where I put up, is as large 
as a palace. It might be a caravansary for whole 
migrating tribes. Waiters dressed in black, with white 


cravats, received me and led me with English formality 


to a vast room in which a Parisian architect would 


easily have found space for a whole apartment. We 
traversed a corridor the length of which recalled the 


monastic passages of the Escorial. In the dining room 


137 


fbtbbebeteeeeetebeeee tts 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


a thousand guests might have been seated in comfort. 
While despatching my dinner in the recess of a win- 
dow, I read on the corner of my napkin the hyperbolic 
and fabulous number, ‘ three thousand two hundred !” 
Yet, but for the laughter, the bursts of talk, the rattling 
of sabres of a few young officers seated in a neighbour- 
ing room, the hotel appeared to be absolutely deserted. 
Great dogs, as weary-looking as those of Aix-la- 
Chapelle, of which Heinrich Heine speaks, were 
wandering in melancholy fashion through it as through 
a street, in quest of a bone or a caress. As they 
arrived from the distant kitchens the tired out waiters 
placed upon the table with a sigh, the half-cold dishes. 
From the balcony I viewed the great square of 
Tver from which radiate many streets. In one corner 
an acrobat’s show exhibited its sign and sent out its 
shrill music, which idlers, no matter to what country 
they may belong, can scarcely resist. In the distance, 
right opposite me, the dome and the bulbous belfries 
of a church, with gilded crosses and chains, stood out 
against the sky; the sides of the square were lined with | 
the facades of handsome houses. Private troikas passed 
swiftly, drawn by thoroughbred horses; public car- 


riages stood in line, and moujiks already wearing their 


138 


che che sake oe he to abe he te ebeecdehecbe cdo cleo fo ebe abe 


wre ce 


THE V OUGA 


tulupes, were settling themselves to sleep at the foot 
of the stairs. | 

The long days when the sun merely disappears to 
reappear a minute later, almost mingling its setting and 
dawn, were already past, but night did not fall before 
ten or eleven in the evening. It is difficult for West- 
erners to imagine the colouring of the sky during that 
long twilight; the palettes of our painters are not pre- 
pared for it; Delacroix, Diaz, and Ziem, would be 
amazed at it and wonder by what bold combinations 
they might succeed in reproducing it; if they did so 
their paintings would be charged with exaggeration. 
One feels as if one were in a different planet and that 
light came refracted through the prism of a different at- 
mosphere. Shades of turquoise and apple-green melt into 
rose-coloured bands, which turn pale lilac, mother-of- 
pearl, steel blue, with inexpressibly delicate gradations. 
Or again it has a milky, opaline, iridescent whiteness 
such as we imagine to be that of the immaterial light 
of Elysium, which is produced neither by the sun, by 
the moon, nor the stars, but by an ether luminous in 
itself and yet veiled. 

Against this fairy sky, as if to bring out more 
strongly the ideally tender tints of it, passed flocks of 


39 


LELLLALL ALLELE DEEL EEE EEE 
TRAVELS IN’ RUSSTS 


crows and ravens, returning to their nests, performing 
evolutions regulated by a sort of strange ceremonial 
and accompanied by croaks to which it is difficult not 
to attribute a mysterious meaning. ‘These hoarse calls, 
broken by sudden silence and varied by choral out- 
bursts, seem to be a sort of hymn or prayer to night. 
The pigeons, which are respected in Russia as being 
the symbol of the Holy Ghost, had already gone to 
roost, and lined all the mouldings and projections of 
the church. ‘There are incredible numbers of them 
and the faithful piously scatter seed for them. 

I went down to the square on my way to the river, 
without a guide and without any indications, trusting 
to that instinct of the topography of cities which rarely 
fails an old traveller. ‘Taking the street which cut 
at right angles the beautiful street of Tver, I soon 
reached the banks of the Volga. The main street 
tried to resemble a St. Petersburg Prospect, but it 
was less frequented, and being farther from the centre 
had preserved the genuine Russian characteristics : — 
it was lined on either side by fences of painted boards 
and wooden houses painted in diverse colours and sur- 
mounted by green roofs. Above these rose the tops 


of trees of a rich, fresh green. Through the panes of 


140 


ore oT oye OTe wT 


tttttettttbtttobbothbdbddh 
: TEE) VQEGA 


the low windows I got a glimpse of the hot-house 
plants which are intended to make the dwellers forget 
the whiteness of the six months’ winter. A _ few 
women were returning from the river, barefooted, 
carrying bundles of linen on their heads. Peasants in 
telegas urged on the little wild-maned horses, as they 
brought back wood from the wood-yards along the shore. 

At the foot of the bank, which is pretty steep but 
which the drojkis and carts ascend at a pace that 
would terrify Parisian drivers and horses, showed the 
funnels of the steamers forming the flotilla of the 
Samolett Company. As the river is not very deep 
here, it is impossible to use vessels of much draft. 
Having secured my berth, for the steamer was to leave 
very early in the morning, I continued my walk along 
the river bank. “The brown water reflected, as in a 
dark mirror, the splendours of the twilight, adding to 
their magnificent intensity and vigour. The opposite 
bank, bathed in shadow, projected like a long cape 
into an ocean of light, for it was difficult to distinguish 
between heaven and water. Two or three little boats, 
working their oars as a drowning insect wiggles its 
legs, rayed here and there the sombre and clear mirror; 
they seemed to float in a vague fluid, and at times I 


141 


en mermrnemre e rd 


TRAVELS IN rR SSTS 


could not help fearing that they would be wrecked on 
the inverted reflection of a dome or a house. 

Farther on a dark line cut the river at its surface, 
like the causeway of an isthmus; on drawing nearer I 
perceived it was a long raft which bridged the two 
shores; a portion of it could be swung open at will to 
allow vessels to pass. It was a bridge reduced to its 
simplest expression. The severe frosts, the floods 
and ice shoves make it difficult to use standing bridges 
on Russian rivers, for such constructions are almost 
always carried away. On the edge of the raft women 
were washing linen; not satisfied with using their 
hands to clean it they trampled it after the Arab 
fashion: the striking fact made my thoughts suddenly 
swerve to the Moorish vapour baths of Algiers, where 
I remember seeing young idoulets dancing in soapsuds 
upon the bathing towels. The quay, from which 
there is a beautiful view, serves as a promenade. 
Crinolines worthy, as far as their size went, of figuring 
on the Boulevard des Italiens, spread out luxuriously, 
and little girls walked three or four yards from their 
mothers, — the circumference of the skirts not per 
mitting them to approach nearer,— in short dresses 


with hoop skirts that resemble the hooped kilts of the 


eterna oti renin tee ees tore ieseee eee 


142 


——— ne 


checked abe a oe oe ae che che cde eck cholo ook cto lee fe doe 


4; 
3 
eon; 
: 
<j 
O7 
= 
‘) 
> 


dancers of the days of Louis XIV. When a moujik, 
in stuff smock-frock, esparto sandals on his feet, 
dressed about as was the peasant of the Danube before 
the Roman Senate, passed near these fashionable dresses, 
I could not help being startled by the sudden contrast: 
nowhere do extreme civilisation and primitive bar- 
barism elbow each other in more marked fashion. 
It was time for me to go back to the hotel and to 
imitate the crows. ‘The glow of the sky was slowly 
fading out; a transparent obscurity enveloped all 
things, destroying the modelling without effacing them, 
as in that marvellous vignette in Gustave Doré’s illus- 
trations of Dante, in which the artist has so admirably 
rendered the poetry of twilight. Before going to bed I 
leaned for a moment from my balcony, lighted a cigar, 
for in Russia it is forbidden to smoke on the streets (a 
prohibition since removed), and gazed at the magnifi- 
cent sky, the intensely brilliant scintillation of which 
reminded me of the Eastern heavens. Never had I 
seen in the blue night such a swarm of stars; the void 
was full of them, at unmeasured depths ; it was like a 
dust of suns. The silvery meanderings of the Milky 
Way showed with startling clearness; and the glance 


might readily believe that it could make out in that 


143 


LEALELALLALAAAAAAPALALAL LS 
TRAVELSOUNA RS oie 


flood of cosmic matter the stellar explosions of new 
worlds, while the nebulez seemed to endeavour to 
resolve and condense themselves into stars. Dazzled 
by the sublime spectacle which I was perhaps contem- 
plating alone at the time, for man uses very moderately 
the privilege which, according to Ovid, has been 
granted him, of bearing his head high and gazing at 
the heavens, I let the dark hours fly by without think- 
ing that I had to be up by dawn. Finally I returned 
to my room. 

Notwithstanding the wealth of linen which the. 
formidable number on my napkin had indicated, there 
was but a single sheet on my bed, no larger than a 
small tablecloth, and which the agitation of the least 
dream was bound to cause to fall off. I am not of 
those who are constantly breathing out elegies about 
the discomforts of travel, so I rolled myself philo- 
sophically in my pelisse and laid down upon one of the 
broad leather sofas found everywhere in Russia, the 
comfort of which explains and makes up for the in- 
sufficiency of the beds. It had the further advantage 
that I should not have to dress with the somnambulistic 
gestures and the sleepy hurry that are to be reckoned 


among the most unpleasant incidents of travel. 


144 


bbbbbbbbtbbetbbbbbbt tbh 
MEH EA VOU GA 


As soon as I appeared at the hotel door a drojki 
dashed towards me at full speed, followed by several 
others which tried to pass it; Russian drivers rarely 
miss an opportunity of indulging in that kind of per- 
formance. As they come up at almost the same time, 
they fight for a customer, disputing with amusing 
volubility but without violence or brutality; the trav- 
eller having picked out one, the others go off at a 
gallop and disperse in every direction. 

A few minutes sufficed to bring my trunk and my- 
self to the bank of the Volga. <A boarded slope led 
to the landing place, near which the little steamer 
“‘ Nixie,” was getting up steam, with jets of white 
smoke, impatient to be off. The late comers, followed 
by their luggage, and dragging their carpet bags along, 
hastily traversed the gangway which was about to be 
withdrawn ; the bell sounded for the last time and * The 
Nixie,” turning its paddles gracefully, slid down the 
stream. 

At Tver the Volga is yet far from having the great 
breadth which, when it is about to flow into the Cas- 
pian Sea, makes it resemble the mighty rivers of 
America. Sure of its future grandeur it begins its 


course modestly, without swelling its waves or casting ” 


VOL. II. —10 145 


whe oe bs oe obs obs able cls able ole ob cbr alls ob abs ale ole alls cl ob cle obs ab ols 


TURGASV> RALSS aera USS oe 


mad foam, and flows between two rather flat banks. 
The colour of the water surprises one when examined, 
the shimmer of the light, the reflection of the sky, and 
of objects being allowed for: it is brown and resembles 
strong tea. No doubt the Volga owes this colour to 
the nature of the sand which it holds in suspension and 
is constantly displacing, for it changes its tint with as 
much inconstancy as the Loire, a fact which makes 
the navigation of the stream if not perilous, at least 
dificult, especially at this part of its course, and at a 
time of year when the water is low. The Rhine is 
green, the Rhone blue and the Volga brown; the first 
two seem to wear the colours of the seas to which they 
are travelling: does that analogy hold good for the 
Volga? I do not know, for I have not yet been able 
to behold the Caspian Sea, that vast puddle of water 
forgotten in the centre of the land by the withdrawal 
of the primitive ocean. 


Meanwhile “The Nixie” proceeded peacefully, 


leaving behind it a wake of foam like beer froth, so I. 


turned the time to advantage by casting a glance at our 
travelling companions. Let us gaze, without fearing 
to be improper, at the limit, not much respected for 


the matter of that, which separates the first class from 


146 


=. 


desde te che ook oh cbc decdechecbeck cheek ooh abe 
PEE V OG 


the second and third. Well-bred people are the same in 
every country, and if in their more intimate manners they 
offer differences noticeable by the observer, they do not 
present marked characteristics which the quickly travel- 
ling tourist may note with his pencil upon his note-book. 

In Russia there has not been hitherto any inter- 
mediate class. No doubt one will soon be formed, 
thanks to the new institutions, but they are too recent 
to have produced any visible effect as yet, and the 
general aspect still remains the same. ‘The nobleman 
and the tchinovnik (functionary) are equally distin- 
guished by their dress or uniforms from the common 
people. The merchant preserves his Asiatic caftan 
and his long beard; the moujik his pink shirt which 
forms a blouse, his full trousers stuck into the tops of 
his boots, and, if the temperature sinks, his greasy 
tulupe, for the Russians, no matter to what class they 
belong, are usually very sensitive to cold, although in 
the West we fancy they brave, without feeling it, the 
most rigorous temperature. 

This part of the deck was encumbered with trunks 
and bundles, and it was impossible to pass along it 
without stepping over the sleepers; the Russians, like 


Eastern peoples, lie down wherever they happen to be; 


147 


LLELHALAL AL LLSEALAALLLE LES 
TRAV ELS? IN? RS oeen 


a bench, a board, a step, a box, a coil of ropes, any- 
thing will answer the purpose; they are often satisfied 
if they can lean againt a wall, and manage to sleep in 
the most inconvenient attitudes. 

The installation of the third class on board “ The 
Nixie’ reminded me of the decks of a steamer in the 
ports of the Levant, when Turkish passengers are 
being taken on board. Every one was in his own cor- 
ner, in the centre of his luggage and his provisions, and 
families were grouped together, for there were both 
women and children. They looked like a tribe float- 
ing away. Some of them wore a long blue or green 
robe fastened with three buttons on the side and drawn 
in at the waist with a narrow belt; these were the 
most elegant and richest. Others had red _ shirts, 
brown felt smock-frocks, or sheepskin tunics, although 
the thermometer was up to seventy. As for the 
women their costume consisted of a cotton gown, of a 
sort of jersey jacket coming down half way to their 
knees, and of a coloured kerchief thrown over the head 
and tied under the chin. ‘The youngest wore shoes 
and stockings, but the old women, disdainful of this 
concession to Western fashions, had put on their feet 


big boots greased with tallow. 


148 


tttebbbtetreretttttetttttes 
TEL Ba iV O ub Gee 


In order to give a right tone to this sketch it would 
need to be dirty, soiled, glazed with bitumen, scratched, 
and scaly, for the costumes I have tried to depict are 
old, dirty, worn out and ragged ; the owners wear them 
night and day and leave them only when they are left 
by them. ‘The relatively high price explains this con- 
stancy. Nevertheless, these moujiks, apparently so 
neglectful of their dress, go to the vapour baths once a 
week, and what is below the clothes is cleaner than 
the clothes themselves; besides, it would be imprudent 
to trust to appearances. I was often shown one of 
the dirtiest and most ragged of these people, while my 
friend whispered in my ear: ‘“ You would give that 
man a kopeck if he held out his hand. Well he owns 
more than a hundred thousand rubles in silver.” AlI- 
though this was told me in the most serious manner, 
and with the admiring respect which the statement of 
a large sum of money always inspires, I found it diffi- 
cult to believe in the fortunes of these ragged Roths- 
childs and Pereires, with boots down at heel. The 
faces have nothing very characteristic about them, 
though occasionally the pale gold of the hair, the straw 
colour of the beard, the steel gray eyes, plainly indicate 


a Northern race. The summer sun had put a yellow 


149 


tebbb bbb bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbs 


ee Te CHO 


TRAVELS’ (LN? Ress site 


mask upon the faces and made them of almost the 
same shade as that of the hair and the beard. The 
women were scarcely pretty, but their gentle, resigned 
plainness was in no wise disagreeable; their faint 
smile allowed one to see handsome teeth, and their 
eyes, though somewhat wrinkled, did not lack for ex- 
pression; in the poses they assumed as they settled on 
the benches, a vestige of feminine grace revealed itself 
under their heavy garments. 

-Meanwhile “The Nixie” was proceeding onwards 
with ever-watchful prudence; in order that the pilot 
might see the river afar and note obstacles, the wheel 
was placed on the bridge connecting the two paddle- 
wheel boxes; he worked the rudder by a system of 
chains that transmitted the impulsion. In the bows, 
leadsmen, armed with graduated poles, were constantly 
calling out the depth of water with a rhythmic cry. 
Buoys painted red and white, poles, branches of trees 
planted in the river bed, marked out the navigable 
channel, and it really required extraordinary familiarity 
with this mode of navigation to make one’s way through 
these capricious meanderings. In certain places the 
sand almost came to the surface, and “ The Nixie” 


more than once scraped the gravel; but a more rapid 


150 


vi 


btbbbbbbbbeet tbe ttttetesr 
BLE ee Fav) OCLs 


turning of the wheels bore her away and carried her 
into the current without its being once necessary to 
have recourse —a humiliating thing to do—to the 
salvors who, standing on flat boards and leaning on long 
boat hooks, await vessels endangered as they pass over 
the shallows. ‘The real peril would be to strike some 
of those great boulders which are strewn here and there 
in the Volga mud, and which are hauled up and placed 
on the bank when an accident has revealed their 
presence. Sometimes they rip up vessels and the cargo 
goes to the bottom. 

The banks, the gullied liassic soil of which testifies 
to the rise of the river when the snows melt, are not 
picturesque, at least in this part. “hey form a series 
of undulations that run one into another without sudden 
breaks, without characteristic changes. Sometimes a 
fir wood breaks the long yellow bands with its dark 
verdure, or else the horizontal line is interrupted by the 
angles of the roofs of the log-houses of a village. 
There is always in every village a church with white- 
washed walls and green dome. 

Every time “ The Nixie” passed a building devoted 
to worship I could tell it even if my back was turned, 


by the bowing of the heads, the swinging of the bodies 


I51 


che obs be abe cbs he ae abe rade cheb eae oe ctr ob ce abe ohne 
TRAVELS INU RiUSSia 


and the signs of the cross made by the moujiks, the 
women of the lower class, and the sailors; one of them, 
indeed, I used as an indicator : possessed of remarkable 
sight he could make out on the extreme horizon the 
most imperceptible steeple and crossed himself with 
automatic precision and rapidity. ‘Then I pulled out 
my glass, getting ready to look at the church or mon- 
astery when it came within reach. In the West piety 
itself is sober in its demonstrations, religious feeling 
keeps within the soul, and these external practices 
amaze the stranger; yet is it not quite the thing to 
bow to the House of God? 

The traffic on the Volga was very animated and the 
interesting sight kept me for long hours: leaning against 
the bulwarks of “The Nixie.” Boats were going 
down the river, spreading vast sails set on tall masts, to 
draw the faintest breath of air. Others were ascend- 
ing, drawn by tow horses, which have neither the size 
nor the strength of our robust draft horses, but num- 
bers make up for vigour. Each team was usually 
composed of nine animals, and at regular distances 
relays installed upon some sandy plain formed camps 
in which Swertzkov, the Russian Horace Vernet, 


would have found admirable suggestions for pictures. 


152 


beetbtbbtettddtttddtt tes 
NHE* VOUGA 


A few crafts of lesser tonnage were being poled up; a 
hard task it is for the boatmen to walk constantly along 
the rail, leaning upon a pole with all their strength ; 
these poor people do not live long ; I am told that they 
rarely attain more than forty years of age. Some of 
the boats are very large although of shallow draft; an 
apple green band sometimes brightens the silvery gray 
tint of the pine of which they are built; in the bow 
are frequently seen huge, painted, wide open eyes, or 
else the Russian eagle roughly daubed, curving its two 
necks and displaying its black wings. Ornaments 
carved with an axe, with an accuracy that the chisel 
could not surpass, adorn the poop. Most of those 
craft carry enormously valuable cargoes of corn. ‘The 
steamers of the Samolett Company and those of a rival 
company would meet us and on each craft the ensign 
was set with scrupulous nautical politeness. I must 
note also the canoes dug out of tree-trunks like Indian 
canoes, which came alongside in spite of the turmoil 
made by the paddle wheels, threw on board letters from 
the small places where “The Nixie” did not put in, 
and caught flying the mail bag thrown to them. 

There was a continual going and coming of pas- 


sengers on board ‘“* The Nixie,” at every stopping place 


153 


tebbbtebetttetttttttttttttes 
TRAVELS!) INS oe 


some landed or came on board; the stops were some- 
times quite long ; wood was taken on to feed the fires, 
for coal is not used by reason of its being scarce and 
expensive. The long piles of firewood arranged along 
the banks have led the old retrograde peasants to say 
that if the railways and steamers go on as they are 
doing people will soon have to die of cold in holy 
Russia. 

These landing places, all built on the same plan, 
consist of a square pontoon supporting two rooms 
built of wood, the one serving as an office, the other 
as a store-room and waiting-room, the two separated 
by a broad passage intended for the travellers and the 
luggage. As the height of the water varies, a wooden 
bridge, sloping more or less steeply, joins the landing 
float to the bank. On the sides of the bridge the 
numerous small traders attracted by the passage of the 
steamer, arrange their frail stalls and are grouped in 
picturesque fashion. Little girls offer you baskets 
containing five or six apples of an acid green, or 
little cakes on which are printed with moulds, as is 
done with butter pats among us, amusingly barba- 
rous figures; among them imaginary lions which if 


they were cast in bronze and covered with an archaic 


154 


a ae SaaS OP Se a ev ee RE EET i Sul ee Se Se 


she obe abe oho obs che abs abs che abe abe cece ofr aba ob abe ob alee ale ale cree 


ere ore OTS UFO WHS WTO OTE CTS OFS OHO UFO US BO TIS we WO 


tHE VORGA 


patina, might pass for specimens of Ninevite art. 
Women carrying a pail of water and a glass, sell kwas, 
a sort of drink made of rye and aromatic herbs, the 
taste of which is very pleasant when one has got used 
to it; as the price is very low well-bred people disdain 
it and common people alone drink it. “These women 
have a peculiarity in their costumes which is worth 
noting. [he Empire fashion placed the waist under 
the breasts, and our eyes, accustomed to long waists, 
are struck by this eccentricity when seeing portraits of 
that day, even though they are painted with Gérard’s 
skill or Prud’hon’s grace. [The Russian peasant wo- 
men put their waists above their breasts, so that they 
appear to be buried in a bag up to the armpits. It is 
easy to imagine the most ungracious effect of this con- 
stant depression, which ends by flattening the firm- 
est bosoms. — The rest of the costume consists of 
a chemise with full sleeves, and a pointed kerchief 
knotted under the chin. 

There were also shops selling white and rye bread, 
the former very white, the other very brown, but the 
most paying business was that of ogourtsis, a sort of 
cucumber which is eaten fresh in summer and pickled 


in winter, and without which it seems the Russians are 


155 


ALLADAD ALE LALLA ALALALALLEL ELS 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


unable to get along; they are served at every meal, 
they form the inevitable accompaniment of every dish, 
slices of them being eaten as in other countries one eats 
a piece of orange. This dainty struck me as insipid, 
It is true that the Russians, for some hygienic reason 
which I am not acquainted with, do not salt their 
dishes at all: they like unsalted things. 

There is no use in my transcribing in French letters 
from the itinerary of the Samolett Company, the fre- 
quently complicated names of the small places at which 
we stopped; they almost always looked alike; steps 
formed of logs or boards leading down to the river from 
the crest of the bank, a Gostiny Dvor, a Government 
House and the richest dwellings of the place, the 
frames of their windows painted white on an olive or 
red ground; a church with four belfries around its 
dome, sometimes painted green, sometimes showing 
their covering of hammered copper or tin; the long 
walls of a cloister enclosure, covered with frescoes in 
the Byzantine taste of Mount Athos; and further off 
isbas built of logs, mortised at the corners. Add, by 
way of enlivening the picture, a few drojkis awaiting 
travellers and a few idlers whose interest in the arctval 


and departure of a steamer never palls. 


156 


SOUIY “I[AJ UO SIaISLO[") 


jnoids ‘q a810945 Aq ‘1061 ‘yysuAdoD 


G ifs 


tttetbetbertttttettttetttes 
THE VOLGA 


Kimra, however, had an air of festivity which sur- 
prised me. Pretty nearly the whole population was 
spread out from the bank of the river to the top of the 
ridge. A report had spread that the Grand Duke, the 
heir anparent to the throne, was on his way to Nijni- 
Novgorod on board “ ‘The Nixie.” It was not so, for 
the Grand Duke passed later, on another vessel; but I 
profited without any scruples by the crowd which his 
presence had drawn, in order to note this collection of 
types. A few elegant toilettes affecting French fash- 
ions — allowing for the inevitable differences in time 
due to the distance between Paris and Kimra, stood 
out against the national background of sack-like skirts 
and old-fashioned French prints. Three young girls 
wearing little Andalusian hats, zouave jackets, and 
swelling crinolines were positively charming, in spite 
of a certain affectation of Western freedom; they 
laughed together and seemed to disdain the wealth of 
boots displayed by the other inhabitants, both men and 
women; for Kimra is as famous for its boots as Ronda 
is for its gaiters. 

The shallowness of the river, and the necessity of 
picking up buoys, did not allow of navigation by night, 


so “ The Nixie,” blowing off steam and casting anchor, 


157 


LEELA LLLALLAELLLALALLALA ELS 
TRAVELS I NURS S x 


stopped as soon as the last breath of the fresh wind 
died away with sunset. In the evening tea was served 
to every passenger and the samovars, vigorously heated, 
poured incessantly their boiling water upon the con- 
centrated infusion. “Co me it was a curious sight to 
see people of the lowest classes, in appearance com- 
parable to beggars in our own land, enjoying that deli- 
cate perfumed drink which is even yet a refinement 
with us and which dainty hands pour out for the guests 
in our drawing-rooms. “The Russian way of drinking 
tea is first to cool it for a moment in the saucer, then 
to swallow it while holding between the teeth a small 
piece of sugar, which sweetens the drink sufficiently 
for the Russian taste, which in this respect is not unlike 
the Chinese. 

When I awoke, upon the narrow divan of the cabin, 
“The Nixie”’ had started again; day was dawning; we 
were running past a bank, the crest of which was 
topped by the isbas of a village reflected in the waters 
of the stream, which was as smooth as a mirror. 

We stopped at Pokrovski, a monastery of the six- 
teenth century, crenelated like a fortress. Most of 
the passengers landed for the purpose of praying in the | 


church, and imploring the blessing of Heaven upon 


158 


ahecbe abe cde obs ts he he chs he checbe cto che beats abel abe abe ck 


ore ae wre ore 


EHV. OG 


their trip. In the penumbra of a mysterious chapel, 
covered with paintings and shimmering with gold, a 
pope or monk of Oriental aspect, chanted with an 
acolyte one of those beautiful melodies of the Greek 
rite, the effect of which is irresistible even when one 
does not share the belief which has inspiredthem. He 
had a magnificent bass voice, deep, rich, and sweet, and 
he used it to perfection. 

Ouglitch which we passed towards the end of the 
day, is quite a large town, having no less than thirteen 
thousand inhabitants; the steeples, domes, and belfries 
of its thirty-six churches made its silhouette superb. 
The river, which is broader at this place, looked like the 
Bosphorus, and it would not have required a great 
stretch of imagination to transform Ouglitch into a 
Turkish city and its bulbous steeples into minarets. 
On the bank was pointed out to me a small building 
in the old Russian style, in which Dimitri, aged seven, 
was slain by Boris Godunoff. 

At the confluence of the Mologa and the Volga, on 
sandy banks, innumerable flocks of crows and ravens 
were indulging in the strange evolutions which precede 
their going to rest. Gulls, which love great streams, 


were beginning to show. Higher up I had seen eagles 


159 


SEAKLAALLALLALLALLALLALA LL 
TRAVELSODN Rag S ore 


fishing for their supper some of those sturgeons which 
Western gourmets would pay for with their weight in 
gold. 

The sunset, flaming with strange tints, had been 
succeeded by a blue, silvery, ideal moonlight, when we 
reached Rybinsk; the stream was almost barred by a 
flotilla of great vessels; through the black web of 
their spars and rigging sparkled a few lights, and a 
church spire rose in the night air like a rocket of 
quicksilver. 

Rybinsk is an important commercial city and pleas- 
ure resort. “The Volga, deepened and broadened by 
the tribute of the waters of the Mologa, allows large 
craft to ascend to this port and to start from it; so the 
sedentary population is augmented at certain seasons 
by a considerable number of travellers in search of 
amusement, and who are in excellent and generous 
temper on account of the profits they have made. One 
of the favourite amusements of the Russian people is 
to listen to airs and choruses sung by gypsies; it is 
impossible to imagine the intense delight taken in these 
by the hearers—a delight which is equalled only by 
the excitability of virtuosi. "The enthusiasm of dilet- 


tanti at the Italian opera can give but a faint idea of it, 


e 


160 


abe be ob abe abe abe fo ale abe abe cb cbede eta cbe cle cb cbo eb ebo che obs baat 


ePh Ey V OriiGiA 


for here there is nothing conventional, nothing stimu- 
lated, nothing fictitious, and good form is forgotten. 
It is indeed the deep, barbaric feelings of primitive man 
which are stirred by those strange sounds. 

I am not surprised at this taste for I share it, and as 
I had been told on the steamer that Rybinsk possessed 
a famous troupe of gypsies, I had accepted an invita- 
tion to pay them a visit, made by an amiable, clever, 
and cordial nobleman, a passenger on “ The Nixie,” 
with whom I would willingly have gone to the ends 
of the world. . 

The Count had landed first to arrange matters, tell- 
ing me the name of the hotel where the concert was 
to take place. I reached the quay slowly, charmed 
by the sight of the wondrous night under the sky, 
the stars in which turned pale in the light of the 
moon. ‘Ihe stream spread out broad as a lake or an 
arm of the sea, cut by the dark line of boats. The 
luminous trail of the orb of night, the fainter reflections 
of the masts lengthened out on the water like ribbons 
of silver and black velvet, and the fluid shimmer of the 
current dentellated its edges. ‘The crests of the green 
roofed houses on the banks, which were bathed in 


shadow, were tipped with a bluish light, but a few red 


VOL. il. — 11 161 


tetbbhbbtttttetbbhteddhths 
TRAVELS) INIRGSSis 


sparks showing here and there, proved that the inhabit- 
ants were not yet asleep. Standing on a large open 
square, the chief church showed like a silver block, 
with fantastic intensity of brilliancy; it seemed to be 
lighted with Bengal fires; its dome surrounded by a 
diadem of pillars, sparkled like a tiara studded with 
diamonds. Phosphorescent metallic reflections played 
upon the tin and copper roofs of the belfries, and the 
steeple, in a style of architecture recalling the Dresden 
spire, seemed to have spitted two or three stars on its 
golden finial. It was a supernatural, magical effect 
such as is seen in an apotheosis in a fairy play, when 
the blue distance of the perspective reveals, as it opens, 
the Palace of the Sylph or the Temple of Happy 
Hymens. The church of Rybinsk thus illumined, 
seemed to have been carved out of a fragment of the 
moon fallen to earth; flooded with the beams of the 
orb of night it shone with the same silvery, snowy 
light. 

Scarcely had I reached the top of the quay, formed 
of great stones which the Volga upsets and tumbles 
over in flood time, than through the faint music issu- 
ing from the tea-houses, the dread cry of Karaoul! 


(police) struck on my ear, howled and rattled by a 


162 


betbbebbbbbbrtthbbbttbtt dds 
CHES VOWGx 


voice that seemed to come from a throat slashed by 
a knife. I sprang forward; two or three shadowy 
forms took to flight ; an open door was abruptly closed ; 
the lights in the house went out and everything became 
dark. The silence of death had followed the call of 
despair. I passed two or three times before that door, 
but the place had turned black, mute and deaf, like 
Saltabadil’s pot-house in the fifth act of the “ Roi 
samuse.” I had no means of entering this cut-throat 
place, for I was alone, a stranger, unarmed, unac- 
quainted with the language, and in a country where 
no one helps you in case of accident or murder, for 
fear of the police and of being called as a witness. 
Besides it was all over; whoever the human being might 
be that had called so despairingly for help, was now 
past assistance. So you see my entry to Rybinsk did 
not lack for dramatic colour, and I regret I cannot 
relate to you in detail the story of the murder, for the 
cry I heard was indeed a cry of agony; but I know 
no more than I have told: shadowy night swallowed 
up the mystery. 

Still much moved I entered a traétir, in which the 
portraits of Emperor Alexander II and Empress Alex- 


androvna, in superb frames, but painted like tavern 


163 


tttbett2tttetetetiteteceesesr 


TRA V BAS! VUNG eis 


signs, formed companion pictures to the holy images, 
covered with gold and silver leaf and lighted by the 
quivering light of a hanging lamp. ‘Tea was served, 
and while I was enjoying the national beverage, im- 
proved by a dash of cognac, a Cremona grinding organ 
was playing an air of Verdi’s in the next room. I was 
soon joined by the engineer of the Samolett Company, 
and the chief engineer of “ The Nixie;”’ and we went 
off together to find the inn where the gypsies were to 
be and where the Count had arranged to meet us. 

The hotel, which belonged to a rich corn merchant 
whose acquaintance I had made on the boat, was sit- 
uated at the other end of the town. The farther one 
went from the bank of the river the larger were the 
grounds round the houses, which were scattered over 
greater spaces and separated by long wooden fences. 
The streets ended in waste places, and plank walks 
enabled one to cross the mud holes. A few lean dogs 
sitting on their haunches were baying at the moon, 
and when we passed near them followed us, either 
through mistrust or sociability, or perhaps in the hope 
of being adopted. Under the influence of the moon 
a light, white mist was rising from the ground and 


interposing its vaporous gauze between us and the 


164 


debbie bbb bb bedded oh cbeh 
Pd BV Oole Gen 


surrounding objects, which it invested with a poetical 
life that daylight no doubt deprives them of. At last 
in the azure mass in which the last houses showed 
lilac gray, I perceived the red gleam of some lighted 
windows; that was the place. A light strumming of 
guitars, sounding in our ears like the obstinate song 
of a cricket, and the notes of which came sharper and 
sharper to us, soon led us to the door. 

A moujik took us through long passages to a dis- 
tant room. The Count, the corn merchant, and a 
young officer formed the audience. On the table, 
among bottles of champagne and glasses, two long 
tapers like church candles were stuck in candlesticks ; 
the wicks were surrounded with yellow aureoles of 
light that scarcely managed to penetrate the thick 
smoke produced by the cigars and cigarettes. A full 
glass was held out to me on condition that I should 
empty it at once, in order that it might be straightway 
refilled; it was particularly excellent Roederer, such 
as is to be had in Russia only. Having performed 
the libation I sat down in mute expectation. 

The gypsy women stood or leaned against the wall 
in indolent Oriental poses, without being in the least 


troubled by the glances fixed upon them; their attitude 


165 


db bbb bbbbbdebbh bd bet 


a ee we ae ee Be te Ue ore 


TRAVELS) TNS Rigo oaes 


was absolutely inert; their faces expressionless; they 
seemed exhausted or asleep. These wild natures, 
when not agitated by passion, sink into an animal 
calm which it is impossible to describe; they do not 
think, they merely dream, like the denizens of the 
forest. No civilized face could attain to their myste- 
rious lack of expression, more excitingly alluring than 
all the grimaces of coquetry. The coldest and least 
poetical cannot help wishing they could provoke a 
flash of desire on those faces, and the wish soon turns 
into passionate longing. 

Were they beautiful, at least, these gypsy women? 
No, not as one generally understands the word. Our 
Parisian ladies would unquestionably have thought them 
ugly, save one who was nearer the European type than 
her companions. ‘Their complexion was olive, their 
hair thick and black, their bodies apparently slendez, 
their hands small and brown; their costume had noth- 
ing characteristic; they wore neither amber nor glass- 
ware necklaces, no skirts diapered with stars and 
fringed with lace, no mantles striped in quaint colours; 
they were got up in some sort of Parisian fashion with 
the addition of a few barbarisms justified by the dis- 


tance. In their flounced skirts, taffeta jackets, crino- 


166 


SAEELEALEALLEAEAKAA LLL LE KLE 
ET EV Onl Gaa 


lines and nets, they looked like badly dressed ladies’ 
maids. 

So far my reader no doubt thinks the entertainment 
was not very remarkable, but he must be patient as I 
was and not despair of the gypsy woman, although she 
has given up, at least when she comes into the cities, 
her picturesque rags and ornaments: the thoroughbred 
should not be seen in the stable when it is blanketed ; 
it is on the turf that action reveals its beauty. 

One of the women, as if shaking off her lassitude 
and her torpor, in response to the obstinate appeals of 
the guitar played by a tall, scoundrelly looking fellow, 
at last made up her mind to advance to the centre of 
the circle. She raised her long eyelids, fringed with 
black lashes, and at once the room seemed full of light. 
Between her lips half parted by a faint smile, shone a 
white gleam. An indistinct murmur like a voice 
heard in a dream issued from her lips. “Thus posed 
she looked like a somnambulist and appeared uncon- 
scious of what she was doing; she saw neither the 
room nor the spectators; she was transfigured: her 
features were ennobled and no longer had any trace of 
vulgarity ; her height seemed greater and her mean 


dress fell in folds like an antique drapery. 


167 


LEALLALALDLAPALAAALLLALLELSL 
TRAVELSOUNY RGSS re 


Little by little she increased the volume of her voice 
and sang a melody slow at first, then more rapid, of 
most intoxicating quaintness. “The theme seemed to 
be a captive bird whose cage is opened; still disbeliev- 
ing that it is free the bird hops outside of its prison, 
then goes off, and when it is sure that there is no trap 
laid for it, it swells out its little throat, straightens 
itself up, utters a joyous cry and hurriedly flies with 
beating wings towards the forest where are singing its 
former companions. Such was the vision which came 
into my mind as [ listened to that air of which no 
known music can give any idea. 

A second gypsy woman joined the first and soon all 
the voices took up the winged theme, sending out 
rockets of scales, prolonging trills, embroidering the 
pauses, sustaining the modulations, making sudden 
stops and beginning again unexpectedly. ‘They chirped, 
whistled, twittered, chattered with eager volubility, 
making a friendly, joyous tumult as if the wild tribe 
were welcoming the bird escaped from the city. Then 
the chorus ceased, the voice continued to sing alone 
of the delights of liberty and solitude, and the refrain 
marked the last phrase with tremendous energy. 


It is very difficult if not impossible, to render in 


168 


tiebbeteetbrtttbtttttetks 
TAUB Y OIG A 


words a musical effect, but it is at least possible to tell 
of the dream to which it gives rise. Gypsy songs 
have a singular power of evocation; they awaken prim- 
itive instincts obliterated by social life, remembrances 
of a former life one has believed vanished forever, and 
the longing for independence and vagabondage, secretly 
retained within the heart, awakens again. They fill 
one with a strange nostalgia for unknown countries 
which seem to be one’s real motherland. Certain 
melodies sound on the ear like a Ranz des vaches, 
which one feels weakly unable to resist, and the desire 
seizes one to throw aside the gun, to abandon the post 
and to swim to the other bank where there is no dis- 
cipline, no duty, no law, no morality other than 
caprice. Innumerable brilliant and confused pictures 
pass before one’s eyes: parties encamped in clearings, 
bivouac fires on which are boiling pans suspended from 
three poles; striped garments drying on cords, and on 
one side crouching on the ground, in the centre of a 
game of tarocs, an old woman spelling out the future 
from cards, while a young gypsy girl, with swarthy 
complexion and blue-black hair, dances as she accom- 
panies herself on a tambourine. The foreground 


vanishes in the dim perspective of vanished ages. 


169 


why ahs ch chy chy he che obs he che abe crcl Leola able ole alle ols oe ee alls of oe 


TRAW ELS: TN) Reais 


One sees vaguely a distant caravan coming down from 
the high plateaus, expelled no doubt from its native 
country on account of its spirit of revolt which can 
never be curbed ;——the white draperies striped with 
crude red and orange, are blowing in the wind; the 
copper rings and bracelets glitter on the brown skins 
and the bars of the sistra emit a rattle of metallic 
sounds. 

Do not suppose that these are simply a_poet’s 
reveries; gypsy music acts strongly upon the most 
prosaic beings, and makes even a Philistine sunk in 
obesity and routine, sing “tra la!” Nor is this music, 
as might be supposed, a wild music, a barbaric music; on 
the contrary, it is the product of a very complex art, 
different from ours, and those who perform it are 
genuine virtuosi, although they do not know a single 
note and are unable to transcribe a single one of the 
airs they sing so well. The frequent employment of 
quarter tones at first troubles the ear, but one soon 
gets accustomed to and finds a strange charm in them. 
It. is a scale of new sonority, of quaint timbres, of 
shades unknown to the ordinary musical keyboard, 
which serve to express sentiments beyond the pale of 


all civilisation. For the gypsies have neither country, 


170 


SLLELLAEALLALLALAALLLE LAL LSS 
i) EDR V OSG A 


nor religion, nor family, nor morality, nor political 
faith; they accept no human yoke and elbow society 
without ever entering it. As they brave or avoid 
every law, so they do not submit to the pedantic for- 
mule of harmony and counter-point; free caprice in 
free nature, the individual enjoying his sensations with- 
out remorseful memory of the night before and with- 
out care for the morrow. ‘The intoxication of space, 
the love of change, and as it were the mania of 
independence, such is the general impression made by 
gypsy song. ‘Ihe themes resemble the songs of birds, 
the murmur of leaves, the sighs of zolian harps; the 
rhythm recalls the distant gallop of the horses of the 
Steppes; they mark the time but they are fleeing. 
The prima donna of the troupe was undoubtedly 
Sacha (diminutive of Alexandra) who had first broken 
silence and stirred the sleeping enthusiasm of her 
companions. Now the wild spirit of the music was 
unloosed and the gypsies were singing no longer for 
us but for themselves. Sacha’s cheeks were flushed 
with an imperceptible rose, her eyes shone with inter- 
mittent flashes. Like Petra Camara she closed her 
eyelids like a fan, producing alternations of shadow 


and light. This method of using her eyes, whether 


171 


tbbebbtdcbbethbbedbbbb be 


ore CFS Fh SFE UFO oe UTE Fe eve wTe es 


TRAV E'S) TNY SSS 


it was natural or of set purpose, was _ irresistibly 
seductive. 

She approached the table; a glass of champagne 
was offered her, but she refused it, for gypsy women 
are temperate. Instead she asked for tea for herself 
and her friends. ‘The guitar player, who was appar- 
ently not afraid of spoiling his voice, was drinking 
down one glass of brandy after another, in order to 
work himself up; stamping his feet on the floor and 
slapping the guitar with the palm of his hand, he kept 
on singing and dancing, gesturing like the devil and 
making grimaces by way of grotesque intermede, with 
a dazzling vivacity. He was the husband, the rom of 
the fair-haired gypsy. Never did a couple conform 
less strictly to the maxim : ‘ Husband and wife should 
be alike.”’ 

For more than two hours one song followed another 
with vertiginous volubility, full of caprice, dash, brio; 
the gypsies performing the most difficult things as if 
they were toying with them. Sacha indulged in fori- 
turi infinitely more difficult than Rhode’s variations, 
while she took part in the conversation and asked one 
of my young travelling companions for a dress of moire 


antique, these being the only two French words she 


172 


dete abe cde oe oe doce abe abs etecde dea cael cde cece be ches 


Slt tlt Slik — Stier — Seti — Seti —S CTS OTS OOS OFS GTS SFO IO YE 


WE Ee VY. OnaGA 


knew. At last the rhythm became so inspiriting, so im- 
perious, that dance was added to song as in an antique 
chorus; all shared in it, from the old woman, tanned 
like a mummy, who was rattling her skeleton form, to 
the little girl of eight, ardent, feverish, matured by 
sickly precocity, who danced as though she would dis- 
locate her bones, so as not to be behind the grown 
women. As for the rascal of a guitar player, he fairly 
vanished in a whirlwind of rapidity, from which sprang 
arpeggios and shrill calls. 

I confess that for one moment I dreaded lest the 


> 


French “ cancan,” which is going around the world, 
had reached Rybinsk and that the evening would end 
like a play at the Variétés or the Palais-Royal, but it 
was not so; the dance of the gypsies is like that of 
the bayaderes. Sacha with her limp arms, the undula- 
tion of her torso and her dancing on one spot, recalled 
Amany and not Rigolboche. She and her companions 
seemed to be performing the Malapou or Wonder 
dance on the banks of the Ganges, before the altar of 
Siwa, the Blue god. Never did the Asiatic origin of 
gypsies seem to me more evident and more irrefutable. 

It was time to return to the steamer, but the spec- 


tators and performers were so excited that the concert 


is 


HLACAALAL ELSA Het tt tected 
TRAVELS) IT NY Rae oiee 


continued in the street; the gypsies, taking our arms, 
walked in separate groups and sang a chorus with 
echoes, responses, and decrescendo effects, followed by 
sonorous outbursts of magical and supernatural effect ; 
Oberon’s horn, even when it is Weber which blows 
into its ivory shells, gives out no more suave, silvery, 
velvety, dreamy notes. 

When we had crossed the gangway on to the 
steamer I[ turned to look back at the shore; on the 
edge of the quay the gypsies, grouped together in 
the moonlight, were waving their hands to us; a daz- 
zling shower of notes, the last silver bombshell of 
these musical fireworks, rose to inaccessible heights, 
scattered its sparkling light upon the dark background 
of silence, and died out. 

‘<The Nixie,”’ which was well fitted to navigate the 
upper Volga, was not of sufficiently heavy tonnage to 
descend the river, — here very much wider and deeper, 
— with an increased number of passengers and a larger 
cargo. So we had been transshipped to the ‘ Pro- 


bd 


vorny,” a steamer belonging to the same company, and 
of five hundred and fifty horse-power. Pails, each 
marked with one of the letters of the steamer’s name, 


in Russian characters, hung under the bridge. The 


174 


bebe bbb bbbebbbbbbbbd be 
THE VOLGA 


deck cabin, forming a sort of kiosk, rose above the 
deck, above the steps leading to the main saloon, and 
enabled one to view the prospect whether in sunshine 
or in bad weather; and there I spent the greater part 
of my days. 


>? 


Before the “ Provorny ”’ started I cast a glance at 
Rybinsk, to see how it looked in daylight, — not with- 
out some apprehension, for the sun is not as indulgent 
as the moon: it makes painfully plain what the orb of 
night softens with its gauze of azure and silver. Well, 
Rybinsk did not suffer too much from the light; its 
yellow, rose, and green houses of wood and brick, 
prettily topped its quay built of great irregular stones 
like a ruined cyclopean wall; the church, which in the 
moonlight had seemed to me of snowy whiteness, was 
painted apple green. I am fond of polychromy in 
architecture, but all the same that peculiar selection of 
colour astonished me. The church moreover, did not 
lack character, with its dome flanked by belfries and its 
four porticoes orientated like those of St. Isaac’s. The 
steeple had the same queer swelling and narrowing 
which is noticed in the steeples of Belgium and Ger- 
many ; but it raised very high its topmost finial, and if 
it did not satisfy the taste it tickled the eye, while its 


Vie) 


tettrbbbtetettettttettttes 


a owe ore wwe oFe 


TRAVELS) IND RS 


silhouette on the horizon was anything but wearisome. 
The vessels at anchor near Rybinsk were mostly of 
large size, and of a peculiar form which I shall more 
than once have occasion to describe, for water traffic 
between this city, Nijni-Novgorod, Kazan, Saratof, 
Astrakhan, and other cities on the lower Volga is very 
considerable at this period of the year. Some were 
getting under way to descend the stream, others were 
at anchor or arriving, and the spectacle was altogether 
most interesting. The ‘ Provorny ” skilfully slid out 
from among this fleet and soon was carried along by 
the current. 

The river was bounded by somewhat higher banks, 
especially on the left; but the character of the land- 
scape did not change: we still had fir woods, aligning 
their great trunks like colonnades against the back- 
ground of sombre verdure; villages of log-huts cluster- 
ing around a church with a green dome; occasionally 
a nobleman’s seat turned its quaint facade towards the 
river, or at least, standing sentry-like at the corner of 
a park, a belvedere or kiosk painted in brilliant colours ; 
board walks climbing up the bank and leading to some 
dwelling ; ground gullied by the rise and fall of the 


water; sandy beaches on which flocks of geese were 


176 


DH BY V OLiGe 


waddling round, and to which herds of oxen and cows 
came down to drink; endless variations of the same 
motive which the pencil would make more intelligible 
than does the pen. 

Presently I caught sight of the Romanoff Convent ; 
its crenelated, whitewashed walls make it look like a 
fortress, and must have protected it in former times 
against sudden assaults; for the treasures contained 
within the monasteries excited in times of trouble the 
cupidity of pillaging hordes. Above the walls arose 
great cedar trees spreading their branches horizontally 
covered with sombre, robust foliage. Cedars are culti- 
vated with particular care at Romanoff, for it was 
under a cedar that the miraculous image venerated 
there was found. 

At Yourevetz the wood for the fires was brought on 
board by women. Two poles arranged like shafts, 
supported a pile of logs, which were thrown into the 
bunkers of the steamer by couples of smart, robust 
peasant women, some of whom were occasionally 
pretty. The excitement of the work flushed their 
complexions with the rosy tint of health, and a slight 
breathlessness which parted their lips gave a glimpse of 


teeth as white as peeled almonds. Unfortunately the 


VOL. II, — 12 Ty 


AALALALLALLALALLELALLLL ELSA 
TRAVELS TN apie 


faces of some of them were marked and pitted with 
small-pox, for vaccination is not very generally prac- 
tised in Russia, no doubt owing to some popular prej- 
udice. Their dress was very simple: a chintz skirt, of 
an old-fashioned pattern such as is to be met with 
sometimes in old country inns on the bed curtains and 
coverlets ; a coarse linen chemise, a kerchief knotted 
under the chin, and that was all. The absence of 
shoes and stockings allowed one to admire fine and well 
turned ankles: Cinderella’s slipper could easily have been 
put on by some of these barefooted girls. I noted 
with pleasure that the hideous fashion of fastening the 
skirt by a tape above the breasts, was indulged in only 
by the older women and the less pretty; the younger 
had their waist above their hips, as anatomy, hygiene, 
and common-sense demand. 

It somewhat shocked my French notions of gallantry 
to see women carrying such heavy loads and doing the 
works of beasts of burden; but after all, this labour per- 
formed by them with an alacrity that dispels the notion 
of fatigue, brings them in a few kopecks and increases 
their own comfort and that of their families. 

As we proceeded down the river we met a great 


number of boats like those we had seen anchored a 


178 


deck cb ch beck ecb bcc decbecbecbeehechecbek ch cbeck 
THE. VOLGA 


Rybinsk ; they are of shallow draft, but in size little 
inferior to a merchant three-master. There is a 
peculiarity in their build which is not met with else- 
where: as in Chinese junks, the bow and stern are 
turned up; the pilot stands on a sort of platform, pro- 
vided with a rail, the traceried work of which has been 
cut out with an axe. On the quarter deck are cabins 
looking like kiosks, with painted and gilded finials sur- 
mounted by vanes. But the most curious thing is the 
house for the horses; it is composed of two floors, 
supported by small posts; in the lower one are the 
stables, in the upper one the windlass itself; between 
the openings of the posts can be seen the horses 
harnessed three and three or four and four abreast, pull- 
ing on the capstan and winding up the tow cable, 
which is anchored away ahead in the river bed by a 
boat manned by eight or ten men. The number of 
horses thus installed on board of these vessels varies 
from one hundred to one hundred and fifty. They 
relieve each other and work, so to speak, watch and 
watch; while some are working the others are resting 
and the boat keeps on going, though slowly. The 
mast of the vessel, of immense height, is formed of 


four or five fir trunks, bound together, and recalls the 


179 


HLEAELAE ALE PLEA ttt tt tttese 
TRAV EUS) TNS RSs 


moulded pillars of Gothic cathedrals. The rope 
shrouds have wooden rounds for ratlins, fastened by 
cross lashings. 

I have described somewhat in detail these great 
Volga boats and their peculiar fittings for they will ere- 
long disappear ; in the course of a few years the horses 
will be replaced by tow-boats, the living power by me- 
chanical power; the whole of this picturesque system 
will appear to be too complicated, slow and costly; 
everywhere the useful and necessary form will prevail. 
The men who man these boats wear queer hats ; tall and 
brimless like bushel measures or stove pipes, and one is 
quite surprised not to see smoke coming out of the top. 

These vessels reminded me of the great rafts of wood 
floating down the Rhine, which carry villages of huts 
and stores enough to furnish Gargantua’s table, and 
even herds of oxen. The last pilot who was able to 
take charge of those great rafts died some years ago, 
and steam navigation has suppressed that barbaric and 
simple mode of transport. 

Yaroslav, where we stopped, is connected with 
Moscow by a stage coach which deserves to be de- 
scribed. A vehicle, drawn by a drove of little horses, 


was waiting for travellers at the landing-place. It was 


—_—- 


180 


an 


Seebeck oe be oh che dectecedecdeck decd obec oe ob aech 
THE VOLGA 


what is called in Russia a tarantass, that is to say, a car- 
riage body placed upon two long bars, which connect 
the fore and the hind wheels; the flexibility of these 
bars answers instead of springs. ‘The tarantass has this 
advantage that in case of a breakdown, it is easily re- 
paired, and it resists the jolting of the worst roads. 
The carriage body, which is not unlike the old time 
litters, was hung with leather curtains, and the patients 
sat down sidewise as in busses. After having consid- 
ered, with the respect it deserved, this sample of ante- 
diluvian carriage building, I ascended the slope of the 
quay and went into the town. The quay itself which 
is planted with trees, serves as a promenade, and at 
certain places is carried over arches which allow the 
lower streets and the torrents to reach the river. 
The view from this point is very fine. Yaroslav 
lacks the characteristics of the old Russian cities, if 
anything can be called old in Russia, where lime-wash 
and paint obstinately conceal every trace of age. The 
porches of the church are filled with paintings in the 
archaic style of Mount Athos, but the outlines alone 
are old: whenever they begin to fade the colours of 
the flesh and the draperies are renewed, and the haloes 


are regilded. 


181 


bhbbbtbrethbbbbbbd tte 
TRAV ELS? sDNi Spr iee 


Kostroma, where we stopped, offered nothing of 
importance, nothing noteworthy, at least to a traveller 
who could merely glance at it. The smaller Russian 
towns have a strikingly uniform appearance : — they are 
built in accordance with certain laws and certain needs, 
against which individual fancy does not even attempt 
to revolt. The lack or the rarity of stone increases 
the number of wooden and brick buildings, and archi- 
tecture cannot, with such materials, attain a beauty 
interesting to the artist. As for the churches, the 
Greek ritual imposes upon them its hieratic forms, and 
they do not present the same variety of style as do our 
Western churches. Let us therefore return to the 
Volga, which is also monotonous, but varied in its unity 
like every great spectacle of Nature. 

Innumerable birds, to say nothing of crows and 
ravens, so common in Russia, are flying across the 
stream. At every moment the steamer causes clouds 
of wild ducks to rise from the reeds of an islet or 
from the sand of a shoal; grebes and teal fly away, 
skimming over the water; in the heavens gulls, their 
white bellies and their pearly gray backs showing alter- 
nately, are indulging in capricious zigzags; falcons, 


kestrels, and buzzards are swooping around, watching 


182 
eS a ee ee ee 


tebbbbbbttbbttttttttttteet 
THESY Oi3GA 


for prey; sometimes a fishing eagle darts straight down 
on some imprudent fish and rises again with vigorous 
flapping of wings, to perch farther away on the bank. 

The long twilight of summer evenings again dis- 
played its magic beauties. Shades of orange, citron, 
and chrysoprase coloured the sunset sky. On this 
background of splendour, the bank of the river, like the 
figures on the golden backgrounds of Byzantine ikons, 
showed in dark outline its trees, hillocks, houses, and 
distant churches; little banks of blue-black clouds 
made fleecy by the wind, scudded across a transverse 
zone; the sun, half sunk behind the wood which 
masked it, lighted innumerable spangles in the foliage. 
The brown waters of the river reflected in a darker 
tone this wonderful spectacle; sparks made visible by 
the growing darkness flashed like fire-works through 
the smoke of the steamer; and in the shadow along the 
banks shone like glow-worms or shooting stars, the 
lanterns of the fishermen on their way to haul up their 
nets. 

As the water was very low the pilot did not dare to 
draw nearer the bank, for the darkness prevented his 
making out the buoys; so we came to anchor in the 


centre of the river, which is very wide in this place, so 


183 


decbcbchok oh bb cb ab cbbeedech chsh bebe deck 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


wide, indeed, that we seemed to be in the centre of a 
great lake, the curving shores and points of promon- 
tories closing in the horizon on all sides. 

The next day I spent in that busy idleness which is 
one of the charms of travelling. As I smoked my 
cigar I watched the banks of the river, that became 
more and more distant, for the Volga is here twice or 
thrice as wide as the Thames at London Bridge. 
Vessels hauled up by the horses on board, and others 
under sail, shoved past as they went up or down. 
The water traffic increased and made it plain that we 
were drawing near an important centre of trade. But 
if the day was quiet the evening brought about a 
most dramatic incident. 

Our steamer had stopped for the night opposite a 
village or small town, the Russian name of which I 
have forgotten, and had moored alongside of a sort 
of pontoon made fast to the bank. My attention was 
soon attracted by loud voices and the tumultuous 
dialogue of a dispute. On the pontoon itself two men 
were quarrelling, disputing wildly ; from insults they 
passed to acts; after having exchanged a few blows 
one of the men seized the other round the waist and 


quick as thought threw him into the river, splashing 


184 


bbbbbtbbtbtettbbhthbdbd ddd 
Ue Let V OLGA 


the water almost in my face, for the man fell between 
the pontoon and the steamer, in a space not more than 
three to four feet in width. ‘The eddying waters 
closed over him and I saw nothing reappear. “There 
was a moment of dreadful anxiety, and everybody sup- 
posed the poor wretch was drowned, for it was im- 
possible to fish him out from under the hull of the 
vessel, where no doubt the current had already carried 
him. Suddenly in the moonlight the water was seen 
to foam up near the bank and a human form emerged, 
shook itself and climbed the bank with rapid steps. 
The man, who was an excellent swimmer, had 
dived under the paddle wheels, the box of which 
touched a neighbouring vessel. He could boast of 
having had a narrow escape. Meanwhile the would-be 
murderer instead of fleeing, was talking away with 
much motion of his arms, going and coming, sitting 
down on a bench at the door of the house, then rising 
and beginning all over again. Charles III] maintained 
that the cause of every crime is a woman, and in judi- 
cial inquiries always asked: ‘Who is she?”’ The 
philosophical accuracy of this axiom was proved on 
this occasion:— a trap door opened and from within 


the pontoon arose a woman, who was probably the cause 


185 


betteetetetetetbttttttes 
TRAV EUS) IN RES Ss ie 


of the trouble. Whether she was young and pretty I 
could not make out at that distance in the faint moon- 
light; besides a singular oscillation she indulged in 
prevented my making out her features. Calling to her 
aid all the saints of the Greek calendar she prostrated 
herself and rose to prostrate herself again; she per- 
formed signs of the cross after the Russian fashion, 
with amazing velocity, and murmured prayers broken 
by cries and sobs. It was uncommonly strange ; she 
looked like an Aissaoua working herself up. ‘The 
police, fetched by the victim in person, at last arrived 
and after much discussion two soldiers in gray over- 
coats led away the culprit. For a short time I was 
able to follow the silhouette of the prisoner and the 
soldiers on the crest of the bank, who dared not treat 
him roughly, for he was a tchinoynik. 

The anchor was weighed very early, and as daylight 
facilitated navigation we were not long in coming in 
sight of Nijni-Novgorod. It was one of those white, 
pearly, milky mornings on which objects seem to be 
veiled in a silver gauze; the sky, colourless, but suf- 
fused with veiled sunshine, rested on the gray hills and 
the waters of the stream, which resembled molten tin. 


Bonington’s water-colours are full of such effects, 


186 


she che che abe che oh obs abe oho abe cba cbr cde cde abn ede  olole ol oe ol looks 


THE VOLGA 


which might be believed beyond the powers of paint- 
ing to reproduce, and which inborn colourists alone 
can attain. 

An immense aggregation of vessels of all kinds cov- 
ered the Volga, scarce leaving free space in the centre 
of the current for the passage of ships and steamers. 
The tall masts formed a sort of forest of lopped pines, 
their straight lines cutting firmly against the uniformly 
white background. ‘The cool air of dawn unfolded 
the brightly coloured pennants and made the gilded 
vanes creak as they spun around. Some of these 
vessels laden with flour, were dusted all over with the 
white stuff, like millers. Others, on the contrary, 
showed plainly their bows painted green and their 
salmon-coloured top-sides. 

We reached the landing place of the Company with- 
out damage or accident. It was quite astonishing to 
me, for though the river is as broad as an arm of the 
sea at this point, the water traffic is so great and the 
crowd of crafts so large that it seemed impossible to 
make one’s way through the maze; but rudders act and 
vessels slide between one another as smartly as fishes. 

Nijni-Novgorod stands upon a rise which, after the 


endless succession of plains we had traversed, had quite 


187 


bebbbbtetettettttttttdtes 
TRAVELS) IN?’ RUSSIA 


the effect of a genuine mountain. ‘The slope falls in 
rapid scarps down to the verdant quay; the abrupt 
zigzags thus formed are covered with brick ramparts, 
with a few remains of whitewash showing here and 
there ; these crenelated walls form the boundary of the 
citadel or Kremlin, to use the local name. A _ huge, 
square tower rises on the summit; bulbous steeples 
with gilded crosses topping the walls, betoken the 
presence of a church within the fortress, and lower 
down are scattered the wooden houses on the quay 
itself. Great red buildings, with windows picked out 
with white, stretch in long symmetrical lines. The 
bright tones give brilliancy and vigour to the fore- 
ground and prevent the strictly regular architecture 
from wearying the eye. 

At the top of the landing stairs there was a perfect 
rout of drojkis and telegas, fighting for passengers and 
luggage. Having managed, not without difficulty in 
repelling the izvochtchiks who mobbed me, I climbed 
into a drojki and set off in search of a lodging, a very 
dificult thing to find at the time of the fair. As I _ 
drove along the quay I glanced at the improvised stalls 
of the venders of loaves, ogourtsis, sausages, smoked 


fish, cakes, watermelons, apples, and other victuals 


188 


g$tt¢e¢¢e¢¢tetetetetiteeted 
WHE VOLUGA 


favoured by the common people. My carriage soon 
turned a corner and began climbing the road cut be- 
tween two vast turfed slopes; for Nijni-Novgorod, as 
formerly was Oran before the engineers had filled up 
its picturesque precipices, is divided into two parts by 
a deep ravine. The walls of the Kremlin and the 
avenue of trees which forms a public promenade, crown 
the crest on the left; on the right slope a few houses 
rise, but they soon tire of escalading the declivity down 
which they seem to be sliding. After the ascent, 
which was abridged by the impetuousness of the 
Russian horses, which appear to be unable to go at 
a walk, we reached the summit of the plateau, on 
which extends a great square having in the centre a 
_ fountain with a cast-iron basin in most mediocre taste, 
and a church with green domes, surmounted by gilded 
crosses. | 

As I had ordered the man to drive me to the hotel 
most distant from the fair grounds, believing I should 
thus more easily obtain a room, he stopped before an 
inn at the corner of a square that looks towards the 
Kremlin. After a short delay and some conversation, 
Smyrnof, the hotel-keeper, condescended to admit me 


and the moujik carried in my trunk. 


189 


ae LS 


wh he abe oll oe che abe abe cy be ch chp cb eben el obo che el eb ol ohh atch 
TRAVELSi INI RW ssi 


The room given me was bright, large and clean; it 
contained all that is indispensable to civilised travel, 
save that the bed was provided with but a single sheet, 
and a single mattress about as thick as a thin biscuit; 
but in Russia people affect, as regards beds, an Asiatic 
indifference, which, for the matter of that, I share, and 
the bed of Hotel Smyrnof was as good as any I could 
have got elsewhere. 

While waiting for breakfast I looked out upon the 
square, my glance resting by preference upon the foun- 
tain, — not to admire its architecture, which as I have 
already said, is in the poorest possible taste, — but on 
account of the amusingly popular scenes of which a 
public fountain necessarily becomes the centre. The 
water carriers came to fill their barrels; they did so 
by plunging into the basin small pails at the end of 
a long stick, which they overset at the mouth of the 
barrel with remarkable quickness though they did spill 
about half the contents. “There were also military 
convicts dressed in their gray overcoats, on water 
fatigue duty, guarded by two soldiers with fixed bay- 
onets; moujiks, who filled wooden vases, broad at the 
bottom, narrow at the top, for household service. But 


never a woman did I see, while the German fountains 


| ele 


dodo ake eae oe eo oh ok de cdecde dele check cb obec ob ebook 


ere oTe eye eye we 


PES V OG” 


would have drawn together an assemblage of Gretchens, 
Nanerls, and Kaetchens gossiping away on the edge of 
the basin. In Russia women, even of the lowest 
classes, do not go out much, and it is men who per- 
form most of the domestic functions. 

After a plenteous breakfast served by waiters in 
black coats and white cravats, who were perhaps Mus- 
sulmans and whose English dress formed a_ perfect 
contrast with their characteristically Tartar faces, I 
hastened to descend to the fair grounds, situated at 
the foot of the city, on a sort of beach formed by the 
confluence of the Oka and the Volga. No guide 
was necessary to find the place, for everybody was 
going in that direction. 

At the foot of the hill my attention was attracted by 
a small chapel; on the upper steps were bowing, with a 
mechanical movement of salutation, resembling that of 
wooden birds which mechanically ‘raise and drop their 
heads, frightfully squalid beggars, regular human rags, 
which the funereal rag-picker had doubtlessly refused, 
through disgust, to pick up and cast into his basket; a 
few nuns wearing a tall hood of black velvet and a 
narrow, close-fitting serge dress, who shook before me 


_an alms-box in which rattled the kopecks of the pre- 


IgI 


oS en ee en ne a ee ey 
TRA VtELS) PNA RS oe 


vious givers; these nuns are to be found wherever the 
congregating of the public leads them to hope for a 
successful quest. Five or six old women, who would 
have made Panzoust’s Sybil appear young and pretty, 
completed the picture. A great number of small lighted . 
tapers made the silver-gilt plates of the Ikonostas, which 
was further lighted by lamps, blaze in the interior like 
a mass of goldsmith work. I found it difficult to make 
my way into the small building, which was crowded 
with the faithful who were making the sign of the 
cross as hard as they could, and swinging like dervishes. 
A thread of water, no doubt possessing some miracu- 
lous property, that dropped into a stone shell placed 
against the wall like a holy-water vessel, struck me as 
being the special object of devotion in the place. 
Public drojkis and telegas were flying along, making 
deep ruts in the mud and driving foot-passengers to the 
edge of the road. Sometimes a more elegant drojki 
came along, bearing two ladies showily dressed, with 
widespread crinolines, rouged and painted like idols, 
smiling to show their teeth and casting to right and 
left that courtesan glance which is the net with which 
they catch the unwary. The Nijni-Novgorod fair 


draws these birds of prey from all the evil places in 


192 


tebebebbbbbedhdbbhtotts 
THEA VY OLGA 


Russia and from farther away tee ; whole cargoes of 
them come by steamer and a special quarter is reserved 
for them. The ogre of lust must have its prey of 
more or less fresh flesh. By one of those contrasts 
due to chance, that admirable worker of antitheses, the 
swift drojki often shaved a peaceful cart drawn by a lit- 
tle hairy horse bowing its head under its painted douga, 
and drawing a whole patriarchal group: the grand- 
father, the father, and the mother carrying a baby. 

On that day —though the others were no doubt 
good also — the whisky monopoly must have taken in 
a large amount of cash; a great number of drunkards 
were staggering along the board walks, or splashing 
about in the muddy road; some, still more drunk and 
incapable of walking alone, got along with two friends 
that served as crutches. The faces of some were livid 
and those of others bloodshot and apoplectic-looking, 
according to their temperament or their degree of in- 
toxication. One young fellow, overwhelmed by too 
frequent libations of vodka, had rolled from the side- 
walk on to the sloping beach, through the piles of 
wood, bales, and heaps of filth; he fell, he got up, he 
fell again, laughing idiotically and uttering inarticulate 


cries like a teriaki or a haschachin under the influence 


VOL, Il. —- 13 193 


che oe ae be as aha he oe che a abe ee debe oh ele echo e he chech 


wre eS WS OTS OFS 


TRAVELS) TNs sie 
of the drug. His hands full of earth, his face soiled 


with mud, his clothes torn and stained, he crawled on 
all fours, sometimes managing to reach the top of the 
quay, at other times again tumbling down into the river 
up to his waist, without noting the coldness of the 
water or being aware of the danger of drowning, which 
is the most disagreeable of all deaths for a drunkard. 

The Russians have a proverb about glasses of 
whisky: ‘* The first goes in like a post, the second 
like a falcon, the others flutter in like little birds.” 
The individual whose stumbles I have just described, 
must have held a whole flock of little birds within his 
stomach! But it should be remembered it is not the 
satisfaction of the taste which the moujik expects from 
the drink, but intoxication and forgetfulness ; he drinks 
glass after glass until he falls as if struck by lightning, 
and nothing is more frequent than to find on the board 
walks outstretched bodies that might easily be taken for 
dead men. 

The constantly growing density of the crowd kept 
me for some time in front of a pretty church in which 
the German rococo united in quaint fashion with the 
Byzantine style; on the red background stood out ovae, 


volutes, foliage, capitals like curly cabbages, draped 


194 


cho ae abe obe abe oho cde he abe elected obec oe ebece ob aoe be boob 


Po ere we 


i EE V OF Gx 


brackets, flower-pots and other flamboyant fantasies, 
picked out in white, the whole business surmounted by 
bulbous belfries most ornamental in aspect; it was like 
the roof of a mosque upon a Jesuit church. 

Having takena few steps farther in the midst of a 
perfectly incredible crowd of people and vehicles, 
shoved and elbowed as on the Champs-Elysées when 
there are fireworks, I managed to reach the entrance 
to the bridge that leads to the fair grounds; to ven- 
ture upon it was both difficult and perilous, but hap- 
pily true travellers are like great captains — they go 
anywhere, not with a flag, but with a glass in their 
hand. 

At the entrance to the bridge rose tall masts laden 
with banners of all colours, blazoned by some extrava- 
gant fancy, like the Venetian standards which are 
erected for festivals in France. On some of the 
banners the well-meaning artist had intended, although 
he had not succeeded, to represent the Emperor and 
the Empress. Other banners were adorned with the 
double-headed eagle, St. George brandishing his lance, 
Chinese dragons, leopards, unicorns, griffins, and the 
whole menagerie of the old Bestiaires. A light breeze 


which made them flutter, altered in quaint fashion, as 


195 


SPLDALALHLLE ALA LALLALALLLLL ESS 


TRAVELS) IN? Woo 


the folds opened unexpectedly, the images represented 
upon them. 

The bridge over the Oka was a bridge of boats on 
which were laid beams and board walks. The crowd 
filled it from one side to the other, and in the centre 
the carriages dashed along at a speed which nothing 
moderates in Russia and which does not involve acci- 
dents, thanks to the extreme skill of the drivers, who 
are, besides, helped by the docility of the foot passen- 
gers in drawing aside. “The sound was as if the car 
of Capanea were passing over the brazen bridge. 
Both sides of the river disappeared under the immense 
multitude of boats and the inextricable maze of rigging. 
Perched on the high saddles of their little horses the 
Cossacks charged with the police of the fair, and 
known from afar by their long lances as they came, 
rode gravely among the drojkis, telegas, vehicles of all 
sorts and foot passengers of both sexes. But there 
was not a human sound; anywhere else such a vast 
multitude would have given forth a mighty murmur, a 
tumultuous clatter like that of the sea; a vapour of 
noise would have floated above that prodigious con- 
gregation of individuals. But crowds composed of — 


Russian elements are always silent. 


196 


bbbbbb bb bbb bbb hed 


ore we eye e7e eye oFe we 


2b EM VY Oa GA 


At the end of the bridge, hung signs of acrobats and 
paintings of freaks, coloured in the most barbaric man- 
ner; boa constrictors, bearded women, giants, dwarfs, 
strong men and three-headed calves, — which to me 
had an exotic and peculiar character, thanks to the 
gigantic inscriptions in Russian letters. Small stalls 
for the sale of the usual cheap trifles and small 
wares, of holy images, ridiculously low priced, of 
cakes, green apples, sour milk, beer, kwass, rose to 
right and left of the planked causeway ; at the back 
of them stuck out the ends of the joists which had 
not been sawed off, so that they looked like baskets 
the ribs of which have not yet been filled in by the 
basket-maker. 

The boot-dealers’ stall with their shoes, boots, and 
felt socks, attracted my attention as being peculiar to 
the country. ‘There were the daintiest women’s shoes 
of white felt, adorned with red or blue stitching, not 
unlike the shoes called “ sorties-de-bal,”’ which dancing 
girls put on over their thin satin shoes to go to the 
carriage which awaits them: Cinderella alone could 
have put her foot into them. 

The fair at Nijni-Novgorod is a city in itself. The 


long streets cut each other at right angles and end in 


2 


che ae be be be he he oe abe secede che chef ce ob che oe he cad 


Fe HS OFS OTe Ore ae 


RAV BE’ES.)) TNO RES 


ie 


squares with a fountain in the centre. “The wooden 
houses that border them are composed of a ground 
floor, containing a shop and a store-room, and an over- 
hanging story supported by posts, in which the dealer 
and his clerks sleep; this overhanging story and the 
posts upon which it rests, form in front of the stalls a 
show-place and a continuous covered gallery; the bales 
which are unloaded in front may, in case of rain, be 
put under shelter there, and the passers-by, safe from 
the carriages, talk over what they want, or satisfy their 
curiosity without running any greater risk than that of 
being elbowed. 

The streets sometimes end in the plain. A most 
curious thing it is to see outside the fair grounds, the 
camps of carts, with the half wild horses unharnessed 
and fastened to the side boards, the drivers sleeping on 
a bit of coarse stuff or fur. Unfortunately the costumes 
are more ragged than picturesque; although they do 
not lack a certain amount of characteristic savageness, 
there are no bright colours, save here and there a pink 
shirt; ochre, sienna, Cassel earth, and bitumen, would 
suffice to paint these things ; something, however, can 
be made out of the smock-frocks, the tulupes, the 


bands crossed around the legs, the esparto shoes, the 


198 


eo OF We CFO WO 


DEEDES VOI Ga 


yellow bearded faces, and the little thin horses whose 
bright eyes shine upon you through the long hair of 
their wild manes. 

In one of these camps were Siberians who dealt in 
furs ; the skins, which had been only roughly prepared, 
so as to keep, were lying pell-mell on mats, the fur 
inside, without the least attempt to show them off to 
advantage. To the layman it looked like a sale of 
rabbit skins. ‘Ivhe dealers did not look any better than 
their goods, and yet the value of the latter amounts to 
enormous sums. Arctic beaver, Zibeline marten, and 
blue Siberian fox skins fetch amazing prices which 
would startle Western people. A blue fox pelisse is 
worth ten thousand roubles or forty thousand francs. 
A collar of beaver, with white hair showing above the 
brown fur, costs one thousand roubles. I possess a 
small cap of beaver which in Paris would not fetch fif- 
teen francs, but which caused me to be well thought 
of in Russia where people are judged somewhat by 
their furs ; it cost seventy-five silver roubles. Innum- 
erable points which we do not notice increase or 
diminish the value of fur: if the animal was killed 
during winter and has its winter down, the price is 


higher, for the fur is warmer and will keep out greater 


199 


ahs aby ols cfs able ofl alle ofa abs ol obs cba cll elle ob ells ob oll ob ob cle obs ober ol 
TRAVELS?) I NPR SSIs 


cold; the nearer the animal has been killed to the 
Arctic regions, the softer is the fur. The furs of our 
temperate countries become insufficient when the ther- 
mometer falls to four below zero: they do not retain 
sufficiently long the heat which they receive in the 
apartments. 

A characteristic industry of Russia is that of the 
trunk makers. In the making of trunks the imitation 
of the West gives way to the pure Asiatic taste. 
There are always many trunk shops in Nijni-Noy- 
gorod and it was in them that I stayed longest. 
Charming indeed are the boxes of all sizes, painted 
with bright colours and with ornaments of silver or 
gold varnish, covered with blue, red, or green spangles, 
with metallic reflections, ornamented with gilt nails, 
symmetrically arranged, trellised with thongs of white 
or buff leather, strengthened with steel or copper 
corner pieces, and closed with artlessly complicated 
locks. ‘They are exactly such as one imagines would 
be the trunks of an Ameer or a Sultana on their 
travels. When in use these trunks are provided with 
a cover of strong linen, which is taken off on arrival; 
they then serve as chests of drawers, no doubt to the 


great regret of their owners, who would prefer civilised 


200 


. 


ahecke tea oh ce oe oh abe ce ctecde focbocde cock cde cdece alec 


PTO UTS OTS OFS GIS VO SHO VEO 


THE. VOLGA 


magnificence to this lovely, barbaric Juxuriousness. I 
regret that I did not buy a certain painted box, var- 
nished like the mirror of an Indian princess; but I 
was ashamed to put my wretched clothes in a casket 
which had been made for cashmeres and brocades. 
With this exception one finds at the Nijni-Novgorod 
fair mostly what is called in trade “article Paris.” 
This is flattering to our patriotism, but regrettable from 
the point of view of picturesqueness : one does expect 
to find, after travelling thirty-three hundred miles, some- 
thing else than the stock of Parisian bazaars. These 
various trifles are greatly admired, for the matter of 
that, but they do not form the serious side of the fair; 
at which an enormous business is done, sales of ten 
thousand cases of tea for instance, which remain on 
the river, or five or six vessels laden with grain, worth 
several millions, or else a quantity of furs to be deliv- 
ered at such a price, and which are not shown. The 
great movement of business is therefore so to speak in- 
visible. Tea-houses furnished witha fountain for ablu- 
tions and intended for the Mussulmans, serve as a 
meeting-place and stock-exchange to the contracting 
parties. Jets of vapour hiss from the samovar ; moujiks, 


wearing red or white shirts, move around with trays in 


201 


bebe kb ek bk bec 
TRAVELS“ UN Rass 


their hands; long-bearded merchants in blue caftans, 
seated opposite Asiatics wearing black astrakhan lamb- 
skin caps, drain their saucers full of the hot infusion 
with a small piece of sugar between their teeth, with 
as much indifference as if immense interests were not 
being discussed in these apparently idle conversations. 
In spite of the diversity of races and dialects, Russian 
is the only language spoken in business transactions, 
and over and above the confused murmur of talk floats, 
perceptible even to the stranger, the sacred word: 
Roubl-Serebrom (silver rouble). 

The various faces in the crowd excited my curiosity 
more than the sight of the shops. The Tartars, with 
prominent cheek bones, wrinkled eyes, concave noses 
such as we imagine the moon’s profile to have, thick 
lips, yellow complexion turning grayish, and close 
shaved temples, were to be met with in great numbers, 
with their little piqué chintz caps placed on top of the 
skull, their brown caftans and their metal plated belts. 
The Persians were easily known by their long oval faces, 
their great arched noses, their brilliant eyes, thick black 
beards and noble Oriental physiognomy ; one could not 
have helped noticing them even though attention had 


not been drawn to them by their conical lambskin caps, 


202 


téetbbtbbtbbbbbbbbbbbb bbs 
DWH Evi V OE GA 


their striped silk gowns and their cashmere sashes. A 
few Armenians in tattered tunics with hanging sleeves ; 
wasp-waisted Circassians wearing a sort of low buck- 
skin cap, stood out inthe crowd; but what I was eagerly 
looking for, especially when I reached the particular 
quarter where tea is sold, was the Chinese. For a 
moment I thought my wish would be fulfilled, as I saw 
the shops with up-curved roofs, fretted trellises, with 
smiling figures on the acroters, which might justify the 
fancy that one had been transported by the touch of 
a wand into a city of the Celestial Empire. But on 
the threshold of the shops and behind the counters I 
could see none but kindly Russian faces: there was 
not a single pleated pigtail, not a single face with 
oblique eyes and eye-brows in the shape of circum- 
flexes, not a single hat in the form of a stew-pan cover, 
not a single blue or violet silk gown; there were no 
Chinese at all. I do not know exactly why I should 
have expected to find them, but I had supposed I 
should meet at Nijni-Novgorod a certain number of 
these strange beings, who, as far as we are concerned, 
exist upon screens and porcelain vases only. Not hav- 
ing thought of the enormous distance between Nijni- 


Novgorod and the Chinese frontier, I had, like a 


203 


GEO CFS CVE CFO OFS WTO CHO OTS 


TRAVELS IN RUS Tye 


perfect fool, thought that the merchants of the Middle 
Empire themselves brought their teas to the fair. The 
well-known repugnance of the Chinese to leave their 
own country and to mingle with the outer barbarians, 
should have prevented my indulging in such a fancy, 
but it had taken such a hold upon me that in spite of 
the evidence of my own eyes I asked for the Chinese 
repeatedly. None had come for three years; on this 
occasion a single one had made his appearance, but in 
order to avoid the importunate curiosity of the people, 
he had put on European dress. One was expected to 
come to the next fair, though it was not very certain. 
These explanations were very kindly given me by a mer- 
chant from whom I bought some tea, but on learning 
I was a French writer he insisted on my accepting 
some Pekoe, in which he mixed one or two handfuls of 
white tipped flowers, and in addition presented me with 
a tablet or brick bearing on one side an inscription in 
Chinese characters, and on the other the red seal of the 
Kiaktha custom-house, the uttermost Russian post. 
The brick is formed of an enormous quantity of leaves 
compressed together and reduced to the smallest vol- 
ume. It looks like a plate of bronze or green porphyry. 
This is the tea which the Manchu Tartars make use 


204 


tetebtbbteteetttttttteketes 
THE VOWGA 


of when travelling across the steppes and with which 
they make that sort of butter soup described by Father 
Huc in his interesting work. 

Not far from ,the Chinese quarter, for that is the 
name given to it at Nijni-Novgorod, are the shops of . 
Eastern wares. [| cannot describe the elegance, the 
majesty of the Effendis in silk caftans with cash- 
mere sashes, bristling with poniards, who with the 
most disdainful coolness sat enthroned upon their 
divans in the midst of a wealth of brocades, velvets, 
silks, flowered stuffs, silver and gold gauzes, Persian 
carpets, scarlet cloths, no doubt embroidered by 
the fingers of captive Peris; mouth-pieces for pipes, 
narghilehs of Khorassan steel, amber chaplets, vials of 
essences, stools inlaid with mother of pearl, slippers 
embroidered with gold arabesques — enough to send a 
colourist into ecstasies. 

I was beginning to weary of wandering along these 
endless streets bordered by shops and stalls; I was getting 
hungry and I yielded to the invitation which Nikita’s 
sign sent me from the other side of the river; Nikita 
being the Collot or the Véfour of Nijni. Moujiks 
standing upon the axles of the wheels on which they 


had carried long logs, were galloping across the bridge, 


205 


er OS '|‘““’ 


debcbobck check bbe ceechebh deeb oh och 
TRAVELS IN RUSSIA 


trying to pass each other; their coolness, their bold- 
ness, and their gracefulness were wonderful ; the speed 
at which they went made their shirts blow out like 
chlamydes ; braced on their feet, their arms outstretched, 
their hair flying in the wind they looked like Greek 
heroes, and one might have sworn it was a chariot race 
at the Olympic games. 

Nikita’s Restaurant is a wooden house with great 
windows, behind which show the broad leaves of the 
hothouse plants with which every establishment with 
any pretence to fashion must be filled, for the Russians 
are very fond of verdure. Waiters in English dress 
served me with sturgeon soup, beefsteak and _horse- 
radish, salmi of grouse — the grouse is unavoidable — 
chicken @ la chasseur, a jelly of some kind with too 
much fish glue in it, an exquisitely delicate ice-cream 
flavoured with almonds, the whole washed down with 
iced seltzer water and a fairly good claret. What I 
most enjoyed, however, was the liberty to smoke, for 
it is expressly forbidden to do so within the fair, the 
only fire tolerated there being that of the lamps burn- 
ing before the holy images with which every shop is 
adorned. 

Having finished dinner I went back to the fair, still 

206 


lS 
choke abs oh ob hb heed cbecbecle cheek de cdeh heehee 


CTs G58 eGe a7e oTe ee wre ae we 


PEE V OLGA 


expecting to find something new. AQ feeling akin to 
that which keeps people at the Opera balls in spite of 
the heat, the dust, and the fatigue, prevented my return- 
ing to the hotel. After having traversed a few lanes I 
reached a square on which arose on one hand a church 
and on the other a mosque. [he church was sur- 
mounted by a cross, the mosque by a crescent; the 
two symbols shone peacefully in the air of evening, 
gilded by an impartial or indifferent ray of the sun, 
which is about one and the same thing. The two 
forms of worship seem to live like good neighbours, 
for religious tolerance is widely practised in Russia, 
which counts even idolaters among its subjects, —the 
Parsees who worship fire. 

The door of the Orthodox church was open and 
evening prayer was being said in it. It was not easy 
to enter, for the compact multitude filled the building 
as completely as liquid fills a vase. Yet by using my 
elbows I managed to make my way in. The interior 
of the church looked like a golden furnace: forests of 
candles and constellations of chandeliers made the 
gilding of the Ikonostas flame again as the metallic re- 
flections mingled with the rays of light in sudden 


flashes and dazzling phosphorescence. ‘This mass of 


207 


Seteeteeteeeetetttetteeee 
TRAVELS tN! tao 


light formed in the upper part of the cupola a dense 
red mist into which ascended the glorious chants of 
the Greek liturgy sung by the popes and repeated in a 
low voice by the congregation. ‘The bowings called 
for by the ritual made the whole of that assembly of 
believers bend and rise at the prescribed moment with 
aregularity comparable to that of a well executed mili- 
tary manceuvre. 

After a few moments I went out, for I already felt 
the perspiration streaming over my body as if I were 
in a vapour bath. I should much have liked to visit 
the mosque also, but it was not Allah’s hour. | 

What was I to do with the remainder of my even- 
ing? A drojki passing by I hailed it, and without 
asking me where I wanted to go the driver started his 
horse at a gallop: that is quite the way the izsvocht- 
chicks do; they rarely inquire whither they are to take 
their fare. A ma leva or na prava tells them at need 
which way to go. My driver after having traversed 
the bridge that leads to Nikita’s, began to gallop across 
the country along rudimentary roads marked only by 
horrid ruts; I let him go on, for I took it for granted 
he would drive me somewhere, and indeed the intelli- 


gent fellow had bethought himself that a gentleman of 


208 


ALLEL ALLLALALAALALALA LAL LES ELS 
DEL BY VY OfLiGas 


my kidney could, not have intended to go anywhere at 
that hour of the evening, but to the quarter reserved to 
the tea, music, and pleasure-houses. 

Night was falling. We traversed with terrific velo- 
city rough ground with many pools of water, in a 
penumbra through which partially built houses showed 
like skeletons. At last lights began to pierce the 
darkness with red points; bursts of music reached my 
ears, telling of orchestras. We had got to the place. 
From the house, with open doors and wretched win- 
dows, issued the drone of balaleikas mingled with 
guttural cries; strange silhouettes showed against the 
windows; on the narrow plank platform staggered in- 
toxicated shadows and showed extravagant toilettes, 
alternately lost in darkness and brilliantly lighted. 

If the Cythera of antiquity had for a girdle the azure 
waters of the Mediterranean, the Muscovite Cythera 
was surrounded by a girdle of mud, which I did not 
care to meddle with. In the squares, at the crossings 
of streets, the waters,.owing to the flatness of the 
ground, collected and formed deep quagmires in which 
the wheels of carriages, stirring up the most noi- 
some stenches, sank up to the axles. Caring little to 


be upset in such a quagmire, amid a block of half 


Puy il. —— 14 209 


dec obe oooh ob cbs ch de cbecbecb cece cb ch ch ob oooh chek 


TRAVELS TNA RGSS 


submerged drojkis, 1 ordered my driver to turn around 
and to take me back to the Smyrnof Hotel. By his 
amazed glance I understood he looked upon me as an 
individual of not much account, and as an absurdly rigor- 
ous person; but he obeyed and I wound up my even- 
ing by walking round the Kremlin. ‘The moon had 
risen and at times one of its silvery beams revealed 
under the shadow of the trees two people embracing 
each other closely or walking slowly along hand in 
hand. 

The next day I spent in visiting the upper part of 
Nijni-Novgorod. From a belvedere placed at the outer 
angle of the Kremlin and overlooking a beautiful pub- 
lic garden outspread on the hilly slope, with cool masses 
of verdure, and sinuous yellow sanded walks, one has a 
wonderful view, a limitless panorama. Through undu- 
lating plains which turn lilac, pearl gray and steel blue 
in the distance, the Volga rolls in great curves, now 
dark, now bright, according as it reflects the sky or the 
shadow of acloud. On the nearer bank of the river I 
could scarce make out the few houses, looking smaller 
than toy villages manufactured in Nuremberg. The 
vessels at anchor near the shore resembled a Lilliputian 


fleet. Everything was lost, effaced and swallowed up 


210 


ee ee ee 
THE VOLGA 


in the serene, azure, somewhat sad immensity which 
recalled the infinite expanse of the sea. It was a 
genuinely Russian horizon. 

There was nothing more for me to see and I started 
back for Moscow, freed from the obsession which had 
led me to undertake this long trip. No longer did 
the demon of travel whisper in my ear: “Nijni- 


Novgorod ! ” 


iP 


A Trip to Beleium and Holland 


EFORE I enter upon the account of my 
glorious expedition, I deem it my duty to 
apprise the universe that herein will be 
found neither lofty political reflections, nor 

theories of railway construction and maintenance, nor 
complaints of Belgian literary piracy, nor dithyrambics 
in honour of the millions of money always forthcoming 
for any undertaking in that happy land, a true indus- 
trial Eldorado. [shall speak only of what I shall have 
seen with my own eyes, that is with my glasses or my 
telescope, for I should fear that my eyes alone might 
deceive me. I shall borrow nothing from guide-books 
or from works on history or geography, and that is 
so rare a merit that I deserve credit for it. 

This is the first voyage I have ever undertaken, and 
I have returned from it convinced that the writers of 
accounts of travel have never even set foot in the 
countries they describe; or, at least, granting they 
have visited them, that they had their story ready pre- 


pared, as was the case with the Abbé de Vertot’s siege. 


215 


Sebe¢e¢tet¢tettettettettetetee 
BELGIUM AND HOUVLA} 


Now, if any curious reader desires to learn the 
reason why |] went to Belgium rather than anywhere 
else, I am quite willing to tell it to him, for I have 
nothing to hide from so respectable a person as my 
reader. ‘The notion came into my mind in the Louvre 
Museum, as I was walking through the Rubens 
Gallery. The sight of his handsome women, with 
full forms, of those lovely and healthy bodies, of those 
mountains of rosy flesh with their wealth of golden 
hair, filled me with the desire to compare them with 
their living prototypes. Further, the heroine of my 
forthcoming novel being fair, I wished, as the saying is, 
to kill two birds with one stone. ‘These, then, were 
the motives which impelled a worthy and simple-minded 
Parisian to run away for a brief season from his beloved 
gutter of the Rue Saint-Honoré. I was not bound to 
the East, like Father Enfantin, in search of the free 
woman; I was on my way to the North in quest of 
the fair-haired female; yet I was scarcely more suc- 
cessful than the venerable Father Enfantin, ex-god and 
now engineer. } 

You are aware of the difficulty a Parisian experiences 
in dragging himself away from Paris, and how deeply 


the human plant strikes its roots between the cracks of 


216 


SELLCEE PSSA eeeetttetes 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


the paving stones. It took me quite three months to 
make up my mind to that fortnight’s trip. I packed 
and unpacked a dozen times, and I secured a seat in 
every stage-coach; I cannot tell how many times I 
bade farewell to the three or four people who, I fancied, 
might possibly miss me. My feelings were harrowed 
by the repetition of these pathetic scenes, and I was in 
a fair way to ruin my digestion by dint of drinking 
stirrup-cups. Finally, one fine morning, having ex- 
changed a rather large number of five-franc pieces for 
a very small number of gold pieces, I took myself by 
the collar and kicked myself out of my own house, 
ordering the friend whom | left in it to fire upon me 
as he would at a mad wolf if I ventured to return 
before the lapse of three weeks, and forthwith I pro- 
ceeded to the fatal Rue du Bouloi, where the coach 
was standing. 

My father, who accompanied me to the stage, 
behaved admirably on this tremendous occasion. He 
did not press me to his breast and he did not give me 
his blessing, any more than he gave me anything else. 
I also behaved in the manliest fashion; I did not shed 
tears; I did not kiss the soil of the fair France I was 


about to leave, and I even hummed gaily enough, and 


217 


che a obec oe he oe ah abe abe decree ce abe eof cde ob oh dhch 


ore we eve we 


BELGIUM AND. HOLEAN SD 


as much out of tune as usual, a little air which stands 
me in the way of my “lilli bulero”’ and “ tiralirala.”’ 

The coach started, and, on reaching the Villette 
gate, I could say, like Jean-Jacques Rousseau, — 
‘‘ Farewell, Paris; city of mud, smoke, and noise.” 

Wretched indeed are the approaches to the Queen 
of cities. [here surely cannot be anything meaner 
than the houses, the sides of which have been laid bare 
by the demolition of their neighbours, and which still 
preserve the blackened imprint of the chimney flues, 
rags of wall-paper and traces of half effaced paint; 
the waste ground intersected by pools of water and 
flecked with hillocks of refuse. It was especially on 
my return, when | had got accustomed to the clean- 
liness and neat appearance of Flemish towns that this 
degradation and filth struck me most forcibly. 

Let me not dwell upon this theme, but rather allow 
the reader’s imagination to evoke a pleasant scene — 
that of our first stop for dinner. Let him figure to 
himself a long table on the handsome white cloth of 
which blaze constellations of plates and dishes; a 
couple of enthusiastic travellers and a dozen others 
absolutely practical, who, with their napkins fastened 


round their necks, look like Greek heroes with marble 


218 


the obs oe obs oe abe ole obs obs obs abs obrcle ote ble ole ole alle al ale ele oe ale ob 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


chlamys, a resemblance strengthened by the warlike 
fashion in which they brandish their weapons of 
offence. 

But, O ye treacherous keepers of hostels, to whom 
as to women might be applied Shakespeare’s words: 
“‘ Fickle as the wave,’ Machiavellian Palforios, double- 
faced hosts, do you suppose that, maugre my apparent 
innocence, I did not fathom your diabolical invention, — 
intended to make starving travellers lose ten of the 
precious twenty minutes granted them by the implaca- 
ble conductor for the purpose of taking their meal ? 

I denounce to the ambulatory and tourist world this 
execrable trick, the more to be feared that it presents 
itself in the form of a fine tureen in thick china, with 
blue lines, filled with a soup so abundantly covered with 
fatty disks that it dispels all distrust. But that soup 
must have been cooked in the devil’s own pot on top 
of a volcano instead of a kitchen range, for it is many 
degrees hotter than molten lead and keeps on boiling 
when served in the plate. 

The battle between the inkeeper and the travellers, 
called dinner, having come to an end, not wholly to 
my disadvantage, thanks to my expeditious ferocity, we 


were returned to our cage and went off at a gallop. 


219 


ALLLHEEL LAL LSAELAALAL LALLA ASSES 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


The trees kept on flying by, to the right and left; 
the rosy tints on the horizon turned violet; the land- 
scape became more indistinct, and the sun, veiled in 
mist, looked like a dropped egg, a most humiliating 
thing for an orb to which M. de Malfilatre addressed 
an ode that d’Alembert declared admirable. 

The fall in the temperature and the cold of the 
growing night covered the window of the coach with a 
pearly dew that streamed down abundantly and that 
prevented my making out the various objects, already 
rendered indistinct by the shades of evening, while 
puffs of icy cold wind compelled me to draw my head 
in every time I peered out, just like a snail whose 
horns are touched; I therefore gave up playing the 
observer, and settled down in my corner as comfortably 
as I could. 

A violent jolt awoke me, and I heard the coach — 
rumbling over what seemed to be a sort of boarded 
floor. I lowered the window and made out in the 
darkness another more opaque and more intense ob- 
scurity, like black velvet on black cloth; it was Pé- 
ronne, which we had been entering for the past half- 
hour through a complicated and most discouraging 


series of gates and drawbridges, that greatly contributed 


220 


£LLLKEA¢AEE Petpet tttttts 


ere efe eT? wre 


PreeeGlUM AND. HOLLAND 


to make one understand its impregnability. As we 
drove across a sort of square, I caught a glimpse, 
thanks to a glimmer of two or three stars that had put 
their heads out of a cloud attic, of the faint outlines of 
a four-sided tower. And that was all I managed to 
see. After rattling for some time longer through 
narrow streets, the houses in which shook as the lum- 
bering coach passed by, we emerged through as many 
gates as we had passed on entering. 

On leaving Péronne I fell asleep again, and when I 
reopened my eyes the gray light of day was beginning 
to show. We were not far from Cambrai, and the 
appearance of the country was completely different. 
The temperature was growing markedly colder, and I 
looked at every instant for the coming of Polar bears 
and ice-floes. It was about here that I first understood 
that I was no longer in Pantin or Bagnolet. The 
French type tended to disappear and was replaced by 
the Flemish. This is also the latitude in which the 
use of shoes and stockings begins to be unknown, and 
where people are so careful to wash their houses that 
they never wash their faces. 

What can I tell you about Cambrai, save that it is a 
fortified city of which Francois Salignac de Lamothe 


224 


eS 


oe ese wre 


BELGIUM AND, Hagar 


Fénelon was formerly bishop, and from which he drew 
his appellation of the Swan of Cambrai, by opposition 
to Bossuet’s the Eagle of Meaux? As far as swans 
go, I only saw, on passing through, a splendid flock of 
geese, some white and others spotted with gray. 

A fortified city, and fortified by Vauban to boot, is 
the ugliest and most dismal place in the world. Im- 
agine three zigzagging brick walls forming endless 
angles, and separated by ditches full of reeds, rushes, 
yellow water-lilies and potatoes, and, generally speaking, 
all manner of things, except water, of course; three 
walls with no other ornaments than embrasures for 
guns, with shutters painted green, and the whole three 
of them exactly alike. The tender rose colour of the 
bricks and the peaceful green of the shutters, opened 
every morning so that the guns may take the air, pro- 
duce the most singular and pastoral effect possible. 

I flatter myself that I am a profound ignoramus as 
regards military architecture and strategy, and I con- 
fess that these much bepraised fortifications seemed to 
me fitter for the growing of vines or wall peaches than 
for the defence of a city. What I want are donjons, 
round towers and square, superimposed ramparts, bat- 


tlements, barbicans, draw-bridges, portcullises and all 


22.2 


alle ob abe obs ole obs alle abs ele alle abs elo ats obo abe obe obs che obs obo ole obs obo ole 
Une ate ete Fo O10 CFS OTe CO OFe CTO OTe oFO VIS LTS OTE ere WTE WTS ete vie aie vie 


PoieGhUM: AND!) HOLLAND 


the apparatus of ancient fortresses; lunettes, cunettes, 
casemates, bastions, counterscarps, and demi-lunes are 
not much to my fancy; like Mascarille I prefer full 
moons. 

I saw nothing noteworthy in Cambrai, where we 
stopped for breakfast, save a huge Presse poster and an- 
other of more unpretentious dimensions which conveyed 
to the inhabitants of the place the information that there 
would be performed in the theatre of Cambrai, upon 
that evening, the splendid play entitled “ Edward in 
Scotland,” widely admired in Paris and which would 
be presented by actors of the first rank. Also, a rather 
handsome tower on the right of the road, which I had 
not time to examine. 

I was struck by the fact that nearly all the streets 
were sanded with blue dust; the passage of three or 
four coal carts scattering, as they went, a fine powder, 
explained the peculiarity. I had already my pencil in 
my hand to note that “In these distant and hitherto 
undescribed regions the soil, owing to strange phenom- 
enon, is blue.” Many travellers’ notes rest on no 
sounder basis of fact. 

Well, to be done with Cambrai, here is the aspect 
of the place, which I kindly give for the benefit of 


2123 


tetbebetbbtetbetetkettttetts 
BELGIUM’ ANDA DROP AaeD 


amateurs of local colour: the ground, blue; the sky, 
the tint of dull Nile water; the houses, the shade of 
faded rose leaves; the roofs, episcopal purple; the in- 
habitants, light pumpkin; the women, straw yellow. 

When Cambrai was left behind the country assumed 
a character entirely different from that I had seen 
hitherto; the North began to make itself felt, and the 
first puffs of its icy breath already struck on my face. 
I had left Paris in my shirt-sleeves with the thermome- 
ter up at ninety; within twenty hours I found that 
my virtue was insufficient as a garment, and I carefully 
wrapped myself up in my cloak. 

Never have I seen anything more charming and 
blooming than the picture unfolded before me on 
leaving that ugly old town, black with coal dust and 
covered with a pall of smoke. 

The heavens were of a very pale blue turning to a 
light lilac as it melted into the band of rosy reflections 
made by the rising sun on the edge of the horizon. 
The land rose and fell in soft undulations, breaking the 
monotony of the lines, almost always flat in this part 
of the country, and narrow streaks of azure harmoni- 
ously bounded the view on either side of the road. 


Great fields of opium poppies pearly with dew rustled 


224 


bebtteteeteteettettetttds 
PeGltiM: AND: HOWLAND 


softly under the breath of morning, as the shoulders 
of a young girl shiver as she emerges from the bath. 
The flower of the opium poppy is almost the same as 
that of the iris: of a delicate blue with white predom- 
inating. These great stretches of azure looked like 
pieces of sky spread out to dry by some celestial laun- 
dress. “Lhe heavens themselves had the appearance of 
an overset field of poppies, if the comparison proves 
more satisfactory to my reader. ‘The transparency, 
delicacy, and lightness of the tone were such that it 
might have been taken for a water-colour by Turner ; 
yet there were but two prevailing tints, pale blue and 
pale lilac, with here and there a few bands of that 
grass-green called Veronese green by painters, two or 
three streaks of ochre and golden lights tipping distant 
clumps of trees. Nothing could be more exquisite ; 
it was one of those effects that neither painting nor 
writing can reproduce and which are felt rather than 
seen. 

As we advanced the view became more extensive 
and new prospects opened up on all sides. Little 
brick houses, hidden in the foliage and red as apis set 
in moss, peeped inquisitively between the branches to 


watch us pass by. Pools of water flashed under the 


VOL. Il. —15 225 


SLAELA LAL ASPAAS ttt tte test 


owe 


BELGIUM AND HOSEA 


slanting rays of the sun, and the slate roofs of church 
steeples shimmered suddenly like silver spangles ; wide 
openings allowed the eye to travel over meads of the 
loveliest spring green imaginable, and revealed innu- 
merable calm and peaceful views of the most familiarly 
Flemish character and most tender in their charm. 
Especially were there little paths, real truants’ foot- 
paths, that joined the road after running by the side of 
some wall or hawthorn hedge, which had the most 
engaging, wild, and uncultivated look in the world, and 
that caused me infinite delight. I should have liked 
to get out of the coach and to wander down one of 
these paths that must have unquestionably led into the 
pleasantest and most picturesquely rustic spots. You 
could never guess how many idylls in the manner of 
Gessner these meandering ways led me to compose; 
into what oceans of cream my thoughts were led by 
them, and what quantities of spinach with sugar they 
induced my imagination to cut fine. 

We frequently traversed hamlets, villages, and small 
towns built wholly of brick, delightfully clean, and so 
daintily constructed, by comparison with the hideous 
huts around Paris, that I could not recover from the 


surprise they filled me with. 


226 


oh ob be abe cee ch che checte deca check cbecbece oh sleek 
B 


mG TUM AND “HOLLAND 

All these houses, striped red and white, covered 
with designs formed by the various ways of laying the 
bricks, with their green shutters, brightly painted and 
varnished, their projecting cornices, their violet slate 
roofs, their covered wells festooned with hops or Vir- 
ginia creeper, recall the towns in painted wood manu- 
factured in Nuremberg for Christmas presents for 
children. Of course, they are larger, but otherwise 
identical, and one of these villages might have been 
presented to young Gargantua for a plaything. 

I shall say nothing of Bouchain, which is so well 
walled a city that I passed it by without perceiving it. 
With your permission we shall skip a tew relays and 
reach Valenciennes. 

It was as we approached this city that began a prac- 
tical joke which lasted throughout our trip: every 
fifteen minutes we crossed a stream or a provincial 
water-course, and, like intelligent travellers, we in- 
quired of some more or less stupid Walloon : — 

“ What is the name of this river, sir? ” 

“ The Scheldt, sir.” 

“ Ah! thank you.” 

A little farther a new river would appear, and we 


would again ask the same question. 


227 


betbbhtttreebttetdtttttttett 
BELGIUM AND HQERPAre 


‘© Would you have the kindness to tell me what this 
river is, Mr. Walloon? ” 

‘Certainly ; it is the Scheldt, canalised.” 

“‘T am very glad to hear it, sir; canals are one of 
the blessings of civilisation, and I love them; but one 
should not have too many of them.” 

The Walloon would remain in the calm and unpre- 
tentious attitude that becomes a man conscious of his 
own rectitude; apparently he did not grasp the mean- 
ing of the latter part of the sentence. 

“Now, away yonder, where I see boats with red 
sails and apple-green rudders?” 

“ That is the Scheldt, sir; the Scheldt itself.” 

We had become so thoroughly used to that reply, 
that when we arrived on the shores of the sea, at 
Ostend, my companion refused steadily to believe that 
it was the ocean, ard he maintained stoutly, unguibus 
et rostro, that it was. still the Scheldt in the form of 
a canal. 

I entered Valenciennes full of thoughts of embroi- 
deries and lace which I could not get rid of; I wished 
the town had been openworked and traceried from end 
to end, and most painfully surprised was I at seeing 


but few specimens of Valenciennes lace. The sil- 


228 


ene wee 


BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


houette of Malines unconsciously stands out in my 
mind in the form of innumerable little filaments, 
exceedingly tenuous, on which are embroidered ideally 
delicate flowers and figures after the manner of Gothic 
tracery, the work of fairies. Alengon is of necessity 
Alengon lace, and it is most regretfully that I tolerate 
houses of stone and plaster in it. Every city famous 
for some special product appears in my imagination 
under the figure of that product, but innumerable are 
the disappointments to which such fancies expose a 
trusting tourist. 

For the rest, Valenciennes is a pretty little town, 
with a few Renaissance houses, a town-hall of the 
early part of Louis XIV’s reign, and a church in the 
Florentine taste. It was at Valenciennes that I first 
saw on the walls the following formidable inscription, 
which I found repeated on every tenth house to the 


end of my wondrous Odyssey : — 
VERKOOPT MEN DRANKEN 


which means, in good Flemish: Here is drink sold. 
It was in Valenciennes also that I received in exchange 
for the money I paid out, astounding small change in 


cents and leaden pieces marked with a crowned W, 


229 


ketbebeetedbteetettttttttte 
BELGIUM) AND: HO. 


which the devil himself could make nothing of, and 
that I was handed a hemp straw instead of a match 
wherewith to light my cigar. 

In the main street of Valenciennes I beheld the one 
and only Rubens I came across in the whole course of 
my trip in search of golden hair and voluptuous forms. 
It was a stout kitchen wench, with huge hips and 
amazingly large breasts, who was quietly sweeping the 
gutter, never for an instant suspecting that she con- 
stituted a most authentic Rubens. ‘This find aroused 
in me hopes that proved subsequently absolutely 
deceitful. 

Valenciennes is the last French town; after travers- 
ing a few leagues more we should reach the frontier; 
I therefore carefully cleaned my glasses in order to 
lose no part of the wonderful things I was about to 
behold. 

We at last reached a place where we were bidden to 
descend from the coach, and where our luggage was 
transferred to a sort of shed to undergo examination. 
We had left France. I was greatly surprised at not 
feeling violently moved. I had fancied that a heart 
at all patriotic would at least beat very much faster 


on leaving the adored soil of the Fatherland; but I 


pt = = = baad = — — — 


wie vie oe CF ove 


BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


found out for myself that this was not the case. [ 
had also entertained the belief that frontiers were 
marked with little dots and coloured with a blue or 
red line, as may be seen on maps; here again I was 
mistaken. 

A café, yclept “ Café de France,’ and adorned with 
a cock that looked like a camel, marked the spot where 
the French territory ended. A tavern, flaunting “ The 
Belgian Lion ”’ for a sign, indicated the other spot where 
began the dominions of His Majesty King Leopold. 
The tavern sign did not give me a very high opinion 
of the existing condition of art in the blessed land of 
literary piracy. As a general rule, if you want to 
paint a Belgian lion, do not take for model a lion, but 
an adolescent poodle; dress it up in a pair of nankeen 
breeches, a tow wig, and a pipe in its mouth. ‘Then 
you shall have a Belgian lion that will look particularly 
well above the legend : — Verkoopt men dranken. 

I amused myself, while the customs officers were 
rummaging in my valise, travelling repeatedly from 
France to Belgium and from Belgium to France. 
Once, indeed, I had one foot in France and the other in 
Belgium. But, to my shame be it spoken, my right 


foot, that stood on French soil, did not in the least 


22I 


ote we oT ore abe cbr checks ohooh 


BI LGIUM AND HOLLAND 


degree tingle patriotically. My comrade, coming up 
from his side, asked me whether I did not intend to 
kiss the sacred soil of the Fatherland before getting into 
the coach again. I sought in vain a spot where I 
might accomplish this pious purpose; it was devilishly 
muddy, and I was compelled to omit this indispensable 
formality. 

While waiting for the completion of the customs 
inspection, the pair of us, thirsting for local colour, 
dashed into the glorious tavern of “ The Belgian Lion,” 
and poured into ourselves more beer than we could 
reasonably contain; a perfect deluge of faro, lambick, 
and white Louvain beer, enough to float Noah’s ark. 
We also drank Belgian coffee, Belgian gin, and smoked 
Belgian tobacco. In a word, we assimilated Belgium 
in every way we could think of. 

Mons is a true Flemish town ; its streets are cleaner 
than the floors of French rooms; they look as though 
they had been waxed and painted. All the houses, 
without a single exception, are painted from top to 
bottom in the most incredible colours ; some are white; 
others ashen blue; others again light fawn, rose, apple- 
green, frightened-mouse gray, and innumerable other 


cheerful shades unknown in our own land. Crow- 


232 


w 


nec a oe oe oh dhe che he de check deeb che che ch chee abe cae 


GO UFO FO wee 


BELGIUM AN HOLLAND 


foot gables are frequently seen; they produce a quaintly 
agreeable effect. 

I got a mere glimpse of the cathedral at the end of 
a street; it did not strike me as particularly fine. On 
the other hand, when the coach stopped, I had the lei- 
sure to examine a most fancifully charming and bright 
church, with innumerable belfries, finials and pot-bellied 
minarets, that gave it a thorough Russian aspect. It 
looked like no end of cup and balls and pepper-pots 
symmetrically arranged on the roof, or big apples 
spitted on a spit. That is a grotesque image of it, 
but pray imagine a building delightfully capricious and 
most picturesque in appearance ; a joyous, triumphant 
church, better suited to weddings than to funerals, and 
fantastically ornamented in the maddest, most flowery 
and most comical style of the reign of Louis XIII; a 
mass at once squat and slender; its heavy lightness 
and light heaviness producing the finest effect. 

Unless I am mistaken this church is dedicated to 
Saint Elizabeth, but it may be that it is to Saint Peter 
or Saint Jude, but what I am sure of is that it is on the 
right of the main street coming from Paris. 

At Mons I purchased local colour cakes: little round 


cakes of pastry very liberally sugared, and resembling 


ata 


bebbbhbhbbbbbbbbbdb bbb bbs 


VFO CS We VFO 


BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


somewhat the Italian paste frole, though neither the 
scent nor the taste of them is as delicate. While dis- 
cussing the pastry I drank a large quantity of gin in 
order to digest the cakes and I ate a large number of 
cakes in order to digest the gin. 

As we proceeded the lines of the landscape sank 
more and more to a level, and became more and more 
despairingly Flemish. “Che view looked like a bil- 
liard table, and but for a row of steeples athwart 
the rim of the sky there would have been no distin- 
guishing heaven from earth, and it would have been as 
impossible to estimate the extent of the space as it is 
at sea. 

From time to time the steeples were replaced by the 
smoking obelisks of the factories, while rows of poplar 


trees dotted the landscape with strings of exclamation 


a fashionable novel. Hops, the vine of the North, 
showed more frequently. It is a very pretty plant that 
climbs up very high poles with a look as of vine-leaves 
around a thyrsus. 

Meanwhile, creatures that, for lack of another term, 
I must call women, continued to pass from time to 


time upon the high-road. I must here boldly proclaim 


234 


Leen nn ene al 


aha che obs obs abe chy che abe che ale che choos che ob cls ole obs of cbr ofr of» obn ofe 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


even at the risk of being charged with paradox, that [ 
have never seen anything more burned, more tanned, 
more derisively brown than these females. I am quite 
certain that fair-haired women must abound in Abys- 
sinia and Ethiopia, for in Belgium it is mulattoes and 
negresses that predominate. 

The farther one goes the more one breathes a per- 
fume of Catholicity wholly unknown in France. Al- 
most every house has a Madonna or a saint in a niche, 
and not, I beg you to believe, a saint or a Madonna 
with broken nose or fingers wanting, but with features 
and limbs complete. In many villages the Madonnas 
are dressed in silk gowns and wear a crown, tinsel and 
elder pith ornaments. As in Spain and Italy a lamp is 
kept burning before them. The churches also are 
adorned with true Southern care and amorous coquetry. 

When we entered Brussels the rain was falling from 
the roofs in such abundance that “thirsty dogs might 
standing drink.” Here are my observations of that 
evening : they bear exclusively on the windows. 

The lower panes are covered with a piece of lace of 
the exact size of the pane, and stretched as tightly as 
possible. In the centre of the lace is a large hand- 


embroidered bouquet. ‘The lace is sometimes replaced 


mi) 


febbbbbebbbebebbbt hd 


we we ete wie 


BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


by small screens of China matting, plaited exceedingly 
close, on which are painted landscapes, birds or 
fruit; these screens, opaque on the street side, allow 
the people within to see, without being seen, what is 
going on outside, an occupation rendered the more easy 
by a combination of concentric mirrors so arranged 
outside as to reflect into a mirror placed on a table or 
in a steel globe hung from the ceiling the image of 
every person traversing the street from either end. [ 
noticed also that all the houses are not only painted in 
oils but varnished, which is particularly unpleasant to 
the eye. 

After dinner, I started to visit the city, and, after 
having traversed an endless number of streets lined 
with houses with crow-foot gables, I suddenly emerged 
upon the Town Hall Square and experienced the live- 
liest surprise of my whole trip. It seemed to me as 
though I had entered another age and the ghost of the 
Middle Ages had suddenly risen up before me. 

Imagine a great square, one whole side of which is 
occupied by the Town Hall, a marvellous edifice with 
rows of arches, like the Palace of the Doges in Venice, 
finials surrounded with traceried balconies, a vast roof 


filled with decorated attic windows, and then the bold- 


236 


SELLLALLALALPEALAL LALLA LAS 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


est, tallest, slenderest open-work belfry, so slender that 
it seems to bend with the breeze, and away up on top 
of it, an archangel, gilded all over, with outspread 
wings and sword in hand. 

On the right, as one looks at the Town Hall, a row 
of houses that are veritable gems of stone chased by 
the wondrous hands of the Renaissance. Nothing 
more lovingly pretty is to be seen anywhere. ‘There 
are little twisted pillars, overhanging stories, balconies 
supported by women with pointed breasts and ending 
in foliage or serpents’ tails, medallions with richly 
carved frames, mythological bassi-relievi, allegorical 
figures upbearing blazoned coats of arms, everything, 
in a word, that the architectural coquetry of that day 
could invent that would please and delight the eye. 
Every one of these houses is admirably preserved; not 
a stone is wanting, for the triple coat of paint that 
covers them has protected them as a sheath might have 
done. 

The opposite side is occupied by buildings of a very 
different character; mansions in the Florentine taste, 
with vermiculated boss-work, squat pillars, balusters, 
carved wreaths, fire-pots, and, near the top, great 


stone scroll-work, volutes twisted several times on 


a37 


ceo bea oho fo che abe ae hector cbecbecbe adeeb cbecbocl ce ack 


ee oFe oFe oe 


BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


themselves and the technical name of which I do not 
know. Add to this that almost all the projecting orna- 
ments, such as the capitals of the columns, the grooves 
of the fluting, the frames of the cartouches and the 
flames that issue from the braziers are gilded, and you 
have something strangely magnificent, especially for 
a poor Parisian who has never yet seen anything else 
than the houses, dirtied up to the third story, of his 
own pandemonium. | 

This side of the square forms a regular architectural 
gallery, in which every possible variety of Spanish, 
Italian and French rococo, from the days of Louis 
XIII to those of Louis XV, is represented by authentic 
samples admirably selected. I use the word ‘ rococo” 
in this connection without implying the least reflection 
upon the thing itself, and merely to designate a period 
of art that is neither antiquity, nor the Middle Ages, 
nor the Renaissance, and which, in its way, is just as 
original and just as worthy of admiration. 

Opposite the Town Hall and closing that side of 
the square, there is a great Gothic palace, a sort of 
votive mansion, erected by some princess or other in 
consequence of some happening or other, I do not 
remember what, having lost the little strip of paper 


238 


. 4" 


bebbbebbebeteeteeeebh hae 
BeEGIlUM. AND, HOLLAND 


on which I had copied the Latin inscription on the 
facade; though I have a good memory, I do not easily 
recollect epigraphic Latin, especially when I think I 
have the inscription in my pocket. But on a medal 
the inscription is of no importance. 

This votive house now serves as a meeting place for 
some dining, smoking, dancing or literary society, and 
the brilliantly lighted interior made the windows flame 
out of the dark facade of the old building, itself sunk 
in the shadow, for the moon was rising behind it and 
was already casting its veil of lilac, silver glazed crape 
upon the other houses in the square. ‘The whole thing 
looked so unnatural and so improbable that I felt as 
if I were in presence of a piece of stage-setting. 
On returning to the hotel my companion and my- 
self were shown to our rooms and our beds, of which 
we stood in utmost need. Belgian beds are not made 
like French beds: there are no bolsters, but two huge 
pillows placed side by side. “The blankets are made 
of cotton, with very effective knots and interlacings. 
The sheets are of linen; the mattresses are covered 
with damasked linen not unlike tea-cloths. The 
candlesticks also are of a different shape from ours: 


they rest on a very broad base and are somewhat sime 


239) 


S$Ebbtttetesettetet teeters 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


ilar to those of the time of Louis XV. The flooring 
is of pine boards in the natural colour, which is a pale 
salmon, instead of being in marquetry as with us; it 
is scrubbed every week with sandstone and boiling 
water. All this may not be very interesting, but it is 
just such small matters which mark the difference 
between one country and another. 

Brussels is English rather than French in appear- 
ance, in the modern portions, and Spanish rather than 
Flemish in the older. There are few important 
churches, save Sainte-Gudule in the Rue de la Mon- 
tagne. The stained-glass windows, the confessionals 
and the pulpit in this church are of exceeding beauty. 
It was being scraped, restored, and lime-washed at the 
time of my visit, for the rage for wash is even worse 
in Belgium than in France. It was here that I first 
remarked the Catholic idolatry so widespread in Belgium 
and quite new to me, for I was acquainted only with 
our French Voltairian churches. It leads to a pro- 
fusion of tawdry ornaments, wreaths, ex-votes, candles, 
vases of flowers, embroidered banners, orange trees in 
boxes, and endless other devout inventions. 

A very remarkable thing in Brussels is the inscrip- 


tion borne on every shop: So-and-so, Bootmaker to 


240 


shoe fea do oe ee che abe cede cede eo ch ce ee a doa 


ore oTe wTe 

BEEGIUM AND HOLLAND 
the Court; So-and-so, Seed-merchant to the Court; 
So-and-so, Match-vender to the Court, and so on, 
without end, and in connection with businesses that 
apparently have nothing on earth to do with the Court. 
The pharmacies have for signs huge deer’s antlers. 
As for the wine shops, they are twice as numerous as 
the houses. 

By dint of crawling up the Magdalena-Straas, I 
managed to reach a fine, large square, called the Place 
Royale, on which stands a church with a facade on the 
centre of which there is a nimbus enclosing a sculp- 
tured eye that seems to be a model set for the imitation 
of all the urchins in the place. ‘The Royal Palace is 
close by; it is a rather large edifice, mediocre architec- 
turally, painted white, in oils, and no doubt a comfort- 
able and commodious dwelling, but one with which art 
has nothing to do. The park, rather small, is in 
no wise striking. It contains a small basin, and a few 
groups, therms, terminals, and statues, all painted in 
oils and varnished. The trees in this place struck me 
as being superbly green, even for this country of 
verdure, and the whole park is delightfully cool. 

Having visited the park, I proceeded to the shops 
of the piratical booksellers; I purchased Alfred de 


VOL. II. — 16 241 


ie 


tbtbbttrettetetttkddtdtdttt 
BELGIUM AND HODDANG 


Musset’s Complete Poems in one volume, and Jules 
Sandeau’s Madame de Sommerville; I wished to purchase 
also your humble servant’s novel, Adademoiselle de 
Maupin, but I have to own that I was unable to do so, 
as it was not to be found anywhere, whereat I was the 
more mortified that Bibliophile Jacob, Hippolyte Lucas, 
and other illustrious personages I am acquainted with, 
are splendidly pirated, and that I had, I confess it 
with all my characteristic modesty, hitherto considered 
myself the equal of these gentlemen. My trip has un- 
deceived me, and has scattered to the winds my foolish 
fancy. The Bibliophile in particular enjoys so great a 
reputation in this land that Alphonse Royer’s and Bar- 
bier’s Mauvais Garcons, and Victor Hugo’s Notre- 
Dame, the two best novels inspired by the Middle 
Ages, are reprinted under his name. 

The prose volumes of the Spectacle dans un fauteutl, 
by Alfred de Musset, are unknown in Belgium; the 
pirate of whom [I inquired for them was quite taken 
aback, and wrote forthwith to his agent ordering him 
to send on the books. This fact does not speak well 
for the circulation of the Revue des Deux-Mondes and 
the literary taste of Belgian booksellers. 


On leaving the shops of these publishers of counter- 


242 


$e$eeeteeeetereettetetetce 
PeEGIUM AND EROLLAND 


feited editions, I took a cab and had myself driven to 
the Laeken Gate, in order to see the railway. Bel- 
gian cabs are very handsome and utterly unlike our 
wretched conveyances; they are well horsed and go 
very fast. The one I was in was a sort of landau 
lined with white velvet, and in Paris would have passed 
for a splendid equipage. On the other hand, if these 
cabs are twice as handsome as ours, they are also twice 
as dear. ‘They usually stand in the Place Royale, and 


there are some forty of them. 


Railways are now all the fashion; they have become 
a fad, a mania, acraze! To speak ill of the railways 
is to deliberately expose one’s self to the pleasant insults 
of the friends of progress and utility. It is making 
certain of being called a retrogressist, a fossil, a par- 
tisan of the ancient régime and of barbarism, and of 
being looked upon as a man devoted to tyrants and 
obscurantism. But even were I to have applied to me 


Andrieux’ famous line, — 
‘¢ Harnessed at the back of Reason’s car,”’ 


I boldly affirm that a railway is a very foolish inven- 
tion. As far as looks go, there is nothing picturesque 


about it. Imagine a number of logs on wkich are 


243 


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we We we oe we He vTe wre ore ore 


BELGIUM AND: HODTEAN®D 


placed flat, narrow, iron bands (rails), on which fit 
grooved wheels of small diameter, about as large as the 
front wheels of our stage coaches; then a long line of 
carriages, waggons, and cars fastened one to another by 
iron chains and separated by thick leather buffers to 
reduce friction and accidental shocks. At the head, 
the towing machine, a sort of forge on wheels, from 
which escape torrents of sparks, and resembling, with 
its upright funnel, an elephant walking along with its 
trunk in the air. The perpetual snorting of this 
machine, which, when at work, emits a black smoke, 
with a noise like that produced by a marine monster 
with a cold in its head spouting salt water out of its 
blow-holes, is unquestionably the most unbearable and 
most painful thing imaginable. The fetid smell of 
the coal has also to be reckoned among the advantages 
of this mode of travel. 

I had fancied that one felt no manner of jolts or of 
motion upon the polished rails; that was a mistake, 
for the carriages drawn by the locomotive oscillate for- 
ward and aft, producing a sort of horizontal rolling 
which turns one sick. It is not a jolting up and down, 
iike that caused by the ruts of an ordinary road, but a 


motion like that of a drawer on grooves, opened and 


244 


cobs oe ob oe oe chee oe ae cece checde ce obec cb cde che obec 


BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


closed rapidly several times running. The locomotive 
starts, the first carriage pulls the second, which strikes 
against the buffers, and so on in succession to the end 
of the line. The rebound is something awful, especi- 
ally when the engine stops, a ceremony which takes 
place to the accompaniment of a most disagreeable 
clatter of rattling iron. 

The speed, it must be owned, is fairly great, yet it 
did not seem to me to be much more than that of a 
postchaise. I was told, it is true, that the engine 
could be driven much faster and the speed doubled, but 
there is this small matter to be taken into account, 
that one may be sent flying into the air to meet aero- 
lites and shooting stars, a sort of trip that possibly has 
its charm. 

I confess I greatly prefer the old-time coaches 
drawn by horses to all these strange and disturbing 
machines. A good barouche, with three strong horses 
and a postilion only half drunk, cracking his whip 
gaily and thrashing the genii of the air, is far jollier 
and pleasanter than those rows of hearses sliding 
silently along the rails to the asthmatic sound of the 
engine boiler. Good horses that stamp and neigh, 


with long manes, satiny quarters, red tufts and bells 


24.5 


che do obec che hs eck be che cbecbecbe doc cbecbecdecbcbeck oh cheek 


eee ore he Oe 


BEEGIUM: AND: HODEANS 


scanning with their hoofs this beautiful line of 


Vergil : — 
<< Quadrupe | dante pul trem sonil tu quatit | ungula | campum,”’ 


are certainly to be preferred both from the point 
of view of poetry and from that of convenience. One 
may then go to the right or to the left, take short 
cuts and crosscuts instead of following imperturbably 
a right line, which of all lines is most distasteful to 
people who are not fortunate enough to be either 
mathematicians or candle-makers, and who have pre- — 
served in some corner of their souls the feeling for the | 
beautiful, which springs, as every one knows, from the — 
use of curved lines and of zigzags, a truth quite fami- 
liar to children on their way to school. 

In my opinion, even were the suppression of horses 
and coachmen the only drawback to railways, it ought 
to be sufficient to prevent their being adopted. I 
would not so much mind giving up the coachmen, feel- 
ing no great sympathy for them, but it would grieve 
me to have the splendid animal that has furnished Job 
and M. Dellile with a subject for such fine descrip- 
tions, disappear from the surface of the earth, though 


really at the rate at which utilitarians are going, I fear 


246 


che cba abe ob a oe oho be oe abe ce cece ob ce feeb ook cp le abe abe ee 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


it will not be long ere, as in Cruikshanks’ caricature, 
we have the last horse exhibited between a cage con- 
taining humanitarians and another full of Papuans from 
the South Seas. In another century or so, the George 
Cuviers and Geoffroy Saint-Hilaires of the day will suc- 
ceed, with the help of comparative anatomy, in recon- 
structing the skeletons of horses scattered throughout 
the strata of tufa, limestone, and marl, will write end- 
less descriptions of them in order to demonstrate that 
they must not be confounded with the animal called 
hippoterium, which lived before the great renewal of 
the world brought about by steam, or with the cock- 
chafer or the rhinoceros, and that they were not fish 
either, as maintained by some scholars. 

We are not yet as crazy as the Americans who run 
railways in every direction, under ground, in water, in 
the attic, in the cellar and from one corner of their 
rooms to another. We have too much common sense 
to indulge in such absurdities, and France will as- 
suredly be the last country to be traversed by lines of 
railways. Railways are much like omnibuses, which 
are not very costly to operate, traverse long distances 
and carry a great many passengers, but never go where 


you want to go; so that a cab and the first street 


247 


dedbele ded dk decks ck deck bb deb de cee dated ob chook 


ND HODRLEAW? 


bo ? 
es 
S 
@ 
Goan 
= 
> 


that happens along will always be infinitely preferable. 
Railways and omnibuses alike invariably have their ter- 
minus ina mud hole, a closed door or a sewer in course 
of construction; so that in order to get to the place 
one desires to reach, one has always to have recourse 
to the ordinary cab and horse. 

Whatever is of real use to man was invented from 
the beginning of the world, and all the people who 
have come along since then have worn out their brains 
to find something new, but have made no improve- 
ments. Change is far from being progress; it is not 
yet proved that steamers are better than sailing vessels, 
or railways with their locomotives than ordinary roads 
and carriages drawn by horses. For my part, I believe 
that men will end by returning to the old methods, 
which are always the best. 

The carriages are divided into barouches, stage- 
coaches, covered waggonettes and ordinary waggons. 
In the barouches the seats are divided like the 
stalls in a theatre, so that one sits in small arm- 
chairs ; the stage-coach is identically the same as the 
ordinary stage-coach. The fares vary from four francs 
and ten sous to one franc, and there are several trains 


daily. 


248 


ttee¢¢¢¢¢¢¢¢¢¢e¢tt¢¢2¢¢te¢ 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


The locomotive car, the steam horse, which had 
been snorting in the most horrible way for some time, 
began to snort more loudly and to emit smoke more 
actively ; we began to roll on, first slowly, then more 
rapidly and finally rather fast. 

The country we were traversing was uniformly flat 
and green ; here and there the white houses of Laeken 
bloomed like daisies on the rich emerald sward, spotted 
with great oxen in the grass up to their bellies; Eng- 
lish gardens with yellow walks; sleepy rivers the 
waters of which looked like tin or quicksilver; Chi- 
nese bridges painted in bright colours, passed by on 
the right and on the left; tall thin poplars flew by at 
full gallop; steeples showed on the horizon; great 
pools of water, like the scattered scales of some giant 
fish, shimmered here and there on the brown earth in 
the numerous excavations that bordered the road; a 
few wine-shops, with the Verkoopt men dranken in let- 
ters a foot long, smiled pleasantly out of their tiny 
hop-gardens, and made many advances to the traveller, 
in order to induce him to get down and drink a 
big glass of good Flemish beer and smoke a pipe of 
patriotic Belgian tobacco. But all these advances 


were in vain, for no man may step off, even to get a 


249 


chocbe abe obs abe cbs alle obs obs obs obs ebnebe cbr obe ole obv ols ole ob cle obs cba ct 


wre oe oh obs ob Fe ere ore 


BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


drink, which to my thinking is one of the worst dis- 
advantages of railways. 

Gates of painted wood, kept by small boys, closed 
all the cross roads until such time as the train had 
passed, and at intervals, frail huts of mud and straw 
sheltered the linemen whose business it is to see that 
there are no stones on the line. 

The engine, having attained its highest rate of 
speed, produced on us the same effect as that observed 
on a boat, when the shores appear to be moving, while 
you yourself are standing still. The fields diapered 
with the golden colza flowers, began to fly past with 
amazing rapidity and to form continuous yellow lines 
in which one could no longer make out the shape of 
the blooms; the brown road, dotted with little white 
chalk pebbles, looked like a huge peahen’s tail violently 
drawn from under us; perpendicular lines became 
horizontal, and had the configuration of the country 
been more diversified, it would have produced a strange 
mirage. The silhouette of Malines, from which stood 
out chiefly a great square tower, passed by so swiftly 
that when I nudged my companion to notice it, it had 
already vanished. ‘This great speed was not kept up, 


either because the coal gave out, or because the 


250 


t 


$etbbetteteetettttttedet 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


necessity of landing passengers at the various stations 
compelled the diminution of the pressure. Never- 
theless we were approaching Antwerp, and as the 
railway does not run into the city itself, a crowd of 
omnibuses of diverse forms and colours was collected 
at the terminus. ‘The fare on these omnibuses is six 
sous, as on our own; they are lined with painted and 
waxed cloth; have a galleried top for the luggage, and 
are drawn by three horses abreast, as were the first 
Paris busses. These horses, better fed and hand- 
somer than the wretched brutes that are used for 
general transportation with us, have oaly a very light 
collar for harness, and are otherwise bare. 

Antwerp is entered by a stone gate, adorned with 
boss-work, coats of arms, and trophies. It is on the 
whole rather majestic-looking; naturally pink, apple- 
green, and mouse-coloured houses abound in it; I even 
saw two or three in the most refreshing of tarred 
wood. I was most astonished, however, at the pro- 
digious number of Madonnas, painted and adorned with 
glass beads like the kindly mediwval Madonnas, seen 
at the corner of every street. Calvaries are equally 
numerous ; almost every wall is covered with crosses, 


spears, ladders, hammers, nails, sponges, crowns of 


251 


che che che che ahs abe he he che ae creche cher cde clear ctr obec oe oboe 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


thorns, arranged in the form of fasces; great Christs, 
most hangdog looking, painted of a livid flesh colour 
and streaked with red lines, rise at the crossing of 
streets and at the corner of squares; for aureole they 
have a lantern, and nearly all are provided with an 
inscription that generally runs as follows: ‘ Ex Christo 


> 


splendor,” or ‘¢ Christus dat lucem,” varied in every 
possible way. It is impossible to render the effect 
produced by moonlight, in the evening mist, by these 
life-size figures, with their reddish lantern that re- 
sembles the eye of a Cyclops shining through the 
darkness. 

I had seen in Roger de Beauvoir’s album, an exceed- 
ingly fantastic sketch by Alphonse Royer, consisting 
of a huge blob of ink, and pompously entitled: ‘ Ant- 
werp at night.” It might just as well have been Con- 
stantinople or Mazulipatam, but I had formed, thanks 
to this most fallacious drawing, a most sombre idea of 
Antwerp, so that I was mightily surprised to find I 
could see perfectly there, even at night, thanks to the 
lantern-bearing Christs. Antwerp is anything but 
black, mediazval, and crowded; there is not a single 
stagnant gutter, not a single unpaved street, nothing, in 


a word, of the picturesque chaos that makes Rouen so 


252 


teebebtbetetettbbtbttettd 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


dear to artists. Everything in Antwerp is broad, spa- 
cious, airy, and fabulously clean; everything has three 
coats of paint, even the cathedral, which is bedizened 
with a most comical pistachio colour. 

We went down to the Place Verte, with the praise- 
worthy intention of having a good dinner, though we 
did not fully succeed in doing so; but heaven, that 
considers man’s intentions, it is said, will, I hope, par- 
don our failure. We had been recommended to the 
Hotel de l’Union, as a good place to restore the inner 
man; we therefore proceeded to the Restauration de 
? Union, for in Belgian-French a restaurant is called a 
“‘restauration.” It is a very large building of a bluish 
white, with large windows, metal posts and of com- 
mendable appearance. We drank a fairly good Rhine 
wine, but the cookery was commonplace and had noth- 
ing characteristic about it. 

As there was still light enough, we visited the 
Cathedral. It contains three marvellous paintings by 
Rubens: “ The Descent from the Cross,” ‘“* The Rais- 
ing of the Cross,” and “ The Assumption of the 
Virgin.” The first two have shutters, also painted by 
Rubens, making four more pictures. Six pages of 


Ohs !, Ahs!, and exclamation points would but feebly 


253 


bbebebbeeetebbbb bbb be 


BELGIUM) AND, HOLEAN SD 


ie 


represent the stupor of admiration with which I was 
filled at the sight of these prodigies. I should need an 
octavo volume instead of a chapter. The wooden 
pulpit, carved by Verbruggen, is admirably beautiful. 
The subject represents Adam and Eve, and the balus- 
trade of the steps, wreathed in vine leaves and foliage, 
is full of all sorts of strange birds and animals; among 


others, of turkey-cocks displaying their tails. Is this 


_ meant as a sarcastic allusion to the hearers or to the 


preacher? I dare not venture to answer so delicate a 
question. The work exhibits wonderful flexibility and 
cleanliness of touch, the lines are sharp and free, the 
whole thing is full and facile. It is rich, luxurious, 
amazingly varied in invention and curious details. 
Strong men indeed were these sixteenth-century artists ! 
The church also contains some good paintings by 
Quentin Matsys, Otto Venius, the master of Rubens, 
Van Dyck and others. The one pity is that this 
beautiful cathedral, painted pistachio green outside, is 
daubed with a hideous canary yellow inside, and with 
several coats of it at that, laid on with the utmost care. 

Having visited the interior of the church, it naturally 
occurred to us to climb up the steeple; it cost us three 


francs to do so, rather a high price for a steeple. Be- 


254 


SLAAPAALLALLALALALALLLLA LAS 
Peretti. Mi AND. HOLL A'N'D 


fore Victor Hugo’s novel made Notre-Dame fashion- 
able, one could ascend the towers for six sous; it costs 
eight now, which is still reasonable. 

There are six hundred and twenty-two steps from 
the pavement to the base of the cross that surmounts 
the spire; you ascend a narrow spiral staircase, dimly 
lighted by narrow loopholes. At first the darkness is 
very intense, on account of the shadow cast by the 
neighbouring buildings, but as one gets higher up the 
light increases in symbolical progression to make the 
climber understand that the higher one rises above 
the earth the more is the darkness dispelled, and that 
the true light is above. Half way up are the bells, 
those monstrous birds that perch and sing on the stone 
foliage of cathedrals, and rooms where are moulded in 
mastic cement the broken finials and where are manu- 
factured the projecting ornaments which time or war 
constantly destroys on the old church. In justice to 
the Belgians I am bound to say that they care for their 
monuments with filial love; no sooner has a stone 
fallen than it is replaced; a hole made than it is 
stopped up; they would willingly put the lot of them 
under glass. The profession of monument is really an 


agreeable one in this country. Only the Belgians are 


© 255 


che che abe oho abe obs abe abe ch oe oboe ohooh che crab cb coeds obs hoe 
BELGIUM AND HOULAWSE 


far too lavish with their apple-green, lemon-yellow, 
and other non-Gothic paints. The Town Hall of 
Alost, through which we passed on our return, is a 
curious specimen of this sort of thing. The walls are 
painted grass-green, with fine white lines simulating 
the joints of the stone; the pillars are slate blue, and 
the statues and carvings varnished silver white. It is 
comical to a degree and is exactly like a German toy. 
After endless windings in the interior of the great 
tube, we at last emerged upon the platform, and a vast 
panorama was outspread before us. It is difficult to 
imagine a grander spectacle; great waves of air bathed 
our faces, and the wind’s cool kisses dried on our wet 
brows the perspiration caused by the fatigue of the 
ascent. Flights of doves passed at intervals and 
alighted like white flakes upon the balustrade, trefoiled 
so lightly that I dared not lean on it lest I should fall 
with it into the abyss. The whole city lay crowded at 
the feet of the cathedral, like a flock at the feet of the 
shepherd; the highest houses scarcely reached its 
ankles, and the crow-foot gables looked quaint indeed 
from that height; it seemed as though the inhabitants 
of the city had builded steps to storm the cathedral, 


but had stopped after constructing a dozen, on seeing 


256° 


beteedbttbettebttttttttst 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


the uselessness of their efforts. These numerous 
roofs with steps leading to nothing resembled a lot of 
unfinished Babels. 

A bird’s-eye view of the city exhibits it in the form 
of a bow of which the Scheldt forms the cord; the 
bright red and violet blue roofs showed like scales 
against the evening mist that was even then rising. 
The river shone in places like a polished steel blade; 
in others it had the mat brilliancy of the silvery back 
of a mirror. On the farther bank was seen the Téte- 
de-Flandre, and beyond it, vast meadows of a velvety 
green spangled by the waters of the Scheldt which here 
indulges in many windings. Boats with red_ sails 
moved slowly along, their light wake breaking the dull 
pellicle of these ribbons of: molten lead. The hori- 
zontal perspective preventing one from seeing the rivet 
bed, the vessels seemed to be sailing on dry land and 
to be ploughs driven by sails. ‘The keeper of the 
tower drew our attention to four almost imperceptible 
little black dots near the sky line; they were four 
Dutch vessels watching the channels. Berg-op-Zoom 
lies in that direction, but in vain did I polish the lenses 
of my glasses, I could not make out anything in the 


distant mists that looked in the least like a town. 


VOL. Il.—17 257 


Lpbebbhbrtbethbbehdhbbbede 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


Should you be surprised at my great desire to see 
Berg-op-Zoom, you must know that it was due to the 
fact that a grandfather of mine was the first man to 
storm the place and was presented with a sword of 
honour in return for that fine action. As this happens 
to be the most glorious tradition in our family history, 
I should have been well pleased to see, even froma 
very great distance, the spot where one of my ances- 
tors had exhibited so much courage. But I did not 
have that satisfaction. 

Great banks of reddish vapours rose one above 
another with coppery and bronze reflections, like 
gigantic ‘Titanic armours issuing from the furnace; 
whole masses would be torn away or fall down, with 
flaming flashes of light as they met, after the manner 
of a volcano sinking in and of the sublimest effect. 
Amid these tawny tints shone the sun, like a huge 
buckler of fire fastened to the arm of the Destroying 
Angel. The shape of a great cloud, resembling a 
warrior seated on a floating islet in a sea of fire, com- 
pleted the illusion. ‘This strange effect lasted for a 
few minutes ; then the wind blew strong, the outlines of 
the clouds changed and the archangel melted into mist. 


When we had looked long enough at this sight, the 
258 


bbb bbb bbb deeds chee heheh 


BeiGlUM: AND: HOLLAND 


keeper reminded us that we had not yet quite reached 
the top, and that we had one hundred and twenty steps 
more to climb. He showed us a narrow staircase no 
wider than a man’s two hands, and told us all we had 
to do was to keep on climbing. 

Imagine a very sharp, very slender spire, hollowed 
internally, horribly openworked and traceried, as high 
as Chimborazo, and constantly growing narrower. 
My comrade, this time, allowed me to go first, an 
honour I did not in the least covet; indeed, I thought 
him far too polite. The moment [ had ventured 
within that wretched tube, it appeared to me that I[ 
was becoming enormously stout and that I was swell- 
ing frightfully. I dreaded being unable to come down 
again and being compelled to spend the remainder of 
my days in that place, like the lighthouse keeper’s 
wife, who had grown so stout in her aerial nest that 
she never was able to pass down the narrow stair she 
had climbed without difficulty as a slender maiden. I 
felt heavier than a war elephant bearing a castle on his 
back; the steps seemed to give way under my feet and 
my elbows to push the wall outwards, as if it were a 
bandbox upon which I was leaning. ‘Through the 


accursed tracery of that infernal spire, as frail as the 


259 


che abe obs obs oy ob able ob abe oly che eral cfr ob able alee ofl ol ole fle abe ofy 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


stamped-out paper lace used for confections and pre- 
served fruits, I could see long streaks of bluish air or 
the pavement of the square, which appeared to be the 
size of ‘a draught-board, with men as big as cockchafers 
and dogs no larger than flies. It was indeed a most 
comforting outlook ! 

By way of adding to the pleasures of the situation it 
was blowing great guns, and everything in that devil 
of a steeple was jigging round like the plates on a 
dresser when a carriage rattles by. 

I turned round to see whether my comrade was 
following me, and stuck my toe in his eye, which fact 
will give you some idea of the steepness of the stairs. 
At last we reached the small loophole that opened out 
on the void, near the ball of the cross. We had com- 
pleted our climb, and sat down for a few moments on 
the top step to rest ourselves. While thus seated the 
happy thought occurred to me that some day the 
steeples of cathedrals were bound to fall down, and 
that this might. be the very day when the spire of the 
Cathedral of Our Lady of Antwerp was to give way 
and fall plump on the pavement below. As it would 
not have been particularly gratifying to find ourselves 


at the extreme summit of the parabola, I imparted my 


260 


LLL DALE heb hbb bbb ht 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


reflection to my comrade, who thought it was in very 
good taste, and we forthwith tumbled down the spiral 
stairs, our ears laid well back like hunted hares. 

Just as we reached the uppermost platform, the sun, 
staggering in drunken fashion, stumbled and plunged 
into an abyss of mist. From time to time an inter- 
mittent light, like that of a fire that is being blown up, 
shot through the black cloud bars. It was of a mag- 
nificence that neither brush nor pen can portray; the 
most amazing and transcendental balderdash would 
prove inadequate. 

On the opposite side there were only cool blue, 
glazed violet, vaporous gray tints; the night had al- 
ready come on. Malines, with its steeple with the 
quadruple dial, alone caught a flaming beam, which 
made it stand out brilliantly against the background of 
cultivated fields that showed in various colours. ‘The 
faint outline of Brussels scarcely peeped above the 
distant line of the horizon, while the locomotive, with 
its chariot tail and smoke aigrette, crawled along the 
rails like some strange animal. A few country houses, 
in which lights already appeared, dotted with brilliant 
points the broad tints that grew darker and darker. 
Then the sun disappeared completely. 


261 


sh cto obs ode be abe che oe che cde sede echo che checks check oh heel 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


No doubt you remember our visiting Antwerp some 
ten years ago, my dear comrade, when the short thirty- 
mile line, then just opened, was the only railway on 
the continent? You must certainly remember the 
pretty houses, looking like German toys, that we would 
have liked to carry away in pine boxes as gifts for the 
children of our acquaintances ; the apple-green, rose, 
sky-blue, citron, fawn, lilac-coloured facades, relieved 
with white lines, that looked so clean, so bright, so 
dainty ? Well, allis changed. The houses with crow- 
foot gables, we were wont to admire so much, are 
now all equally smeared over with that horrible yellow 
wash used in the Middle Ages to paint over the houses 
of traitors. It was the worst punishment which that 
artistic age could devise. No doubt in the case of 
peculiarly aggravated treason a chocolate-coloured plinth 
was added to the walls thus dishonoured. Yet do not 
charge the people of Antwerp with bad taste on this 
account ; they were only too willing to enliven the 
walls of their dwellings with pleasant shades ; it is su- 
perior authority that has compelled them to commit this 
crime of anti-picturesqueness ; a decree of the muni- 
cipality has condemned the innocent town to array 


itself in a pumpkin-coloured dress and to put on the 


262 


tkeeb bbb bbbbbbbbbbbht bd 


BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


very of shame. It is right to denounce to the hatred 
of painters and to the curses of poets the name of the 
chief promoter of this ridiculous measure: he is called 
Gerard Lagrelle. In the Town Hall there is on ex- 
hibition a set of sample colours that may be employed 
_ by house-painters. It is a scale of false tones that 
would make Rubens turn over in his grave, and one 
would need the license of the days of the Regency 
in order to characterise as they deserve some of 
these shades; they run from leaden white to putrid 
yellow. ‘That is the present condition of Antwerp. I 
must add that the faz//e, that survival of the Spanish 
mantilla, has almost entirely disappeared. 

The lantern-bearing Christs and the illumined 
Madonnas at the street corners seemed to me to be 
much less numerous than formerly. The three paint- 
ings by Rubens in the Cathedral did not dazzle me as 
they did on my first trip. Is this due to my sight hav- 
ing failed during the past ten years, or have these noble 
heads really undergone an alteration due to time? I 
congratulate myself on having come into the world at 
a time when the masterpieces of Rubens, Raphael, and 
Titian were still visible, and I cannot help pitying pos- 


terity that will know them by engravings only. Our 


263 


SEES APPEALS SSAA tte tts 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


descendants will not enjoy the serene pleasure of ad- 
miring a sublime thought under a divine form. 

It is fifty miles from Antwerp to Liége, a mere step 
nowadays. So my comrade and myself were unable 
to resist the desire to go to see the preparations for the 
great jubilee soon to take place there. We therefore 
started together for Liége, called Littich in Flemish, 
At the railway station, where we lunched, a very pretty 
girl who was waiting on us consented to give us beer. 
I note the fact, for that was the only time we were 
able to get any on this trip. 

I will not describe a country which you know 
thoroughly, and, besides, what can one see when car- 
ried along by that hippogriff of steel and iron called a 
locomotive ? You travel dazed and dazzled; the trees 
flee by like a routed army; the steeples flash past 
pointing to the sky; there is scarcely time to note in 
the green meads white or red spots, that are herds of 
cattle, a few scale-like tiles and wisps of smoke that 
are villages. 

In the course of a few hours I had reached Liége, 
the approach to which in this direction is charming 


indeed. It is a delightful maze of water, trees, and 


houses. My “vigilant,” that is what a cab is called 
264 


CFS CFS Re GIS SHS STS VTS OTE CVE OTS oe WE OTE 


BELGIUM AND HOLLAND > 


here, did not travel so fast but that I could inspect the 
signs and shop names. On an old blackened monu- 
ment I read the following: This church for sale, for 
demolition or other purposes. 

The city folk were busy preparing for the proces- 
sion; rest altars and triumphal arches adorned with 
figures of angels and the theological virtues in painted 
canvas; oriflammes and banners of guilds and of neigh- 
bouring towns filled the streets, which were black with 
_cassocks, as twenty-nine bishops and archbishops were 
to be present at the ceremony. Stalls of venders of 
chaplets, Agnus Dei, and blessed medals were erected 
under the portals of every church and appeared to be 
doing a good business. 

This outpouring of the church beyond the walls of 
the edifice, this Catholicism mingling familiarly with 
life and invading the public streets, is a curious sight 
fora Frenchman who is not accustomed to these ex- 
ternal manifestations of worship. Liége thus wreathed 
with flowers reminded me of Corpus Christi day in the 
old days and recalled one of the brightest memories 
of my childhood. 

Such were my thoughts as I visited the court of the 


Town Hall, surrounded with granite columns of fan- 


265 


che oe ob obs oe che oe che che che che bec hehehe hh coho che oh shoe 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


tastic orders, no two of them being alike, and the 
pretty church of Saint James, which has an elegant 
Renaissance porch. 

Not far from Liége, Serin smokes and seethes. It 
is there that Cockerill has his works. The forges of 
Lemnos, with their kings, poor Cyclops, were not 
much by the side of this vast establishment, always 
coal blackened, flaming red, and where metals flow in 
torrents; where iron is puddled and purified; where 
are manufactured these huge forgings, the steel bones 
of steam engines. In this place industry rises to the 
height of poetry and leaves far behind it the inventions 
of mythology. 

From Liege to Verviers, the railway, piqued, no 
doubt at always being told that it is too fond of the 
level and disdains picturesque sites, has chosen, as might 
have been done by some old-time road, a very broken 
bit of country. A small stream, the Vesdre, mischiev- 
ously enjoys barring constantly the path of the railway. 
It has to be bridged at every step, but once the bridge 
has been crossed, a tunnel turns up, and so on alter- 
nately. The landscape is delightful; it consists of 
wooded slopes, relieved with just enough rocks to be 


rustic without becoming wild, and diapered with 


266 


choot abe a eo a oe oho be decal hoe oe boone abe doh 


Te WO VIE Oe 


beeLGlUM AND HOLLAND 


villages, country seats, and houses of pleasaunce. 
Through it all plays the Vesdre, producing charming 
effects among the willows, alders, and poplars. 

A branch line runs to Aix-la-Chapelle, Charle- 
magne’s old city. At one of the stations a curious 
soldier, wearing a black leather medieval helmet, 
adorned with brass ornaments and a spike of the same 
metal, dressed in a close fitting, short blue cloth sur- 
coat, like a knight of old starting for the crusades, 
asked me for my passport. I displayed it to the gaze 
of my warrior with purely civil grace. It was the first 
time the document had been of any use to me. 
Within a given time the railways will bring about the 
suppression of passports. Fancy asking for the pass- 
ports of two thousand travellers passing rapidly through 
a city or stopping in it for half a day only! The cus- 
toms also will have to be modified, in view of the 
impossibility of examining every piece of luggage. In 
ten years’ time there will be nothing to stay the flight 
of travellers from one end of Europe to the other. 

I shall not be audacious enough to speak of Aix-la- 
Chapelle after the illustrious author of “The Rhine.” 
He has told us of the wonders of the Treasury and 


spoken of the bones of the great Charlemagne in a 


_— 


267 


tttetbetetbbtetttbtttettesd 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


style peculiarly his own. When I visited the Cathe- 
dral of Aix-la-Chapelle, I was full of the monologue 
of Charles V in Hernani, the lines of which crowded 
back in my memory.. 

Aix-la-Chapelle, in German Aachen, is a clean and 
well laid out city, surrounded with handsome walks ; 
the one called la Borcette is particularly pretty. 
Those who, trusting to remembrances, look for a 
Gothic city and quaintly carved dwellings will be dis- 
appointed. ‘The things that most strike the traveller 
are the sentry-boxes, gates and posts with their 
diagonal black and white stripes. The theatre, 
adorned with an Apollo Musagetes, and in that 
Odeonic style from which it is impossible to escape, 
was closed, and confirmed me in my resolve to proceed 
to Cologne that very evening. 

Have you ever owned a box of genuine Jean-Marie 
Farina eau de cologne? If you have one, look at the 
cut on the label and you will have an accurate idea of 
Cologne. The Cathedral attracts one, because work- 
men are busy upon it, and a Gothic cathedral, filled 
with modern masons, strikes one as incongruous, though 
nothing can be more intelligible. The sides of the 


square are occupied by small shops in which are sold 


268 


cheb abe ecb te techs ch cb ccc ehh chet cbc abe deck 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


views of the Cathedral, both in its present and in its 
future condition, chaplets, devotional engravings, and 
books. 

The woman from whom I purchased some of these 
engravings thought she must, no doubt in order to 
keep abreast of civilisation, exhibit the most Voltairian 
scepticism concerning her wares. Is not an unbeliev- 
ing old woman selling crosses, missals, and legends full 
of the spirit of the Middle Ages, such as Emperor 
Octavian, Peter and Magdalen, Genevieve of Brabant, 
Grizelidis, a hideous thing ? 

One of my dreams was to see Rembrandt’s famous 
painting, known as “The Night Watch; ”’ so, taking 
passage on one of those steamers that go down the 
Rhine bearing an orchestra, I left it at Emmerich 
to go on its way to Nimeguen. A short branch rail- 
way that I had to get to at Arnheim that same even-~ 
ing, was to land me at the gates of Amsterdam. I 
traversed the intervening distance at the very moderate 
trot of a postchaise, which allowed me to admire in 
detail the various beauties of the landscape. Dutch 
postilions are eminently phlegmatic, and their horses 
share this tendency, so unfavourable to speed, besides 


appearing, like their brethren in other lands, downcast 


269 


chee cbe chek ch hh hh bbb dbecbecchechecbe ech bob 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


at the introduction of the railway. These poor 
quadrupeds silently acknowledge themselves beaten by 
the locomotives and are satisfied with a pace of six 
miles an hour when one is forced to have recourse to 
them. 

The moment one gets beyond the black and white 
striped limits of Rhenish Prussia, the appearance of the 
country suddenly changes. A few turns of the wheels 
take you into a new world. The villages look clean 
and well off; the houses assume Van de Velde and 
Van der Heyden airs; the roofs are steeply pitched 
and have crow-foot gables; wheels, set up on poles, 
invite storks to build their nests there; brick shows 
ruddy and joyous upon the facades with white lintels ; 
great trees, with rich foliage, plunge their roots in 
pools of brown water on which are sailing squadrons 
of ducks. As one goes by the glance penetrates calm 
and restful interiors and vaguely perceives domestic 
scenes. On either side of the road, almost always 
built on an embankment, are to be seen as far as the 
eye can reach, meadows cut by ditches, with strag- 
gling clumps of trees, amid which wander, half hidden 
in the luscious grass, some of those fine cows that have 


made Paul Potter famous. 
ME pe heat alli A tak OTL acl err 
270 


hobo hb bbc dechecbe cheb db abeh sh cheek 
BiigeGi UM) AND, HOLLAND 


Beyond Arnheim, as far as I could judge in the 
growing darkness and while proceeding more rapidly 
by train, the character of the country is strange; the 
meadows become barer and partake of the nature of 
barrens and steppes; the vegetation blasted by the salt 
air is poorer, the sand hills, those feeble barriers 
opposed to the storms of Ocean, draw nearer. Yet 
the landscape, diversified here and there by the outline 
of a tree, has a certain grandeur, especially when seen 
in the purple mists of evening. 

It was pitch dark when the train reached the station. 
Then all the Dutch in the carriages, giving the lie to 
their proverbial reputation for slowness and phlegm, 
seized upon their parcels with more than Southern 
vivacity and started on a run for the city, while the 
drivers of the local cabs whipped up their nags and 
drove them at full gallop; it looked exactly like the 
rout of an army hotly pursued. The mystery was 
soon explained; a great gate, one of the leaves of 
which closed so suddenly upon me that I was nearly 
caught in it, was the cause of the hurrying; the hour 
for the closing of the city gates had struck. 

My vehicle was bearing me rapidly towards an hotel 


the name of which had been given me, and [ strove, 


oer 


as I bent out of the window, to make out some of the 
aspects of the unknown city I was traversing. 
Amsterdam, seen at night, presents a most quaint 
and striking aspect. ‘To a stranger the lines of great 
trees, the rows of houses with high gables, the canals, 
the black, oily, sleepy waters of which reflect in long 
streams the lights of the shops and the windows, the 
silhouettes of bridges and locks, the masts and rigging 
unexpectedly lighted by some stray beam, combine to 
form a mysterious and fairy-like ensemble, which seems 
to belong to dreamland rather than to reality. Nor 
does that impression disappear with daylight, for Am- 
sterdam is one of the quaintest of cities. Situated on 
the Zuyderzee, on the banks of that arm of the sea 
called the Y, the Dutch Venice spreads out in the 
shape of a crescent. A sort of fan of canals opens 
out between the houses and imparts to it a peculiar 
physiognomy. Looking towards the harbour, the pros- 
pect is usually as follows: a canal vanishing between 
two rows of ancient trees, and houses with crow-foot 
gables or volutes; in the distance, a water-mill with its 
ruff of woodwork, and a steeple quaintly bulbous, in 
the Moscovite taste, recalling the turrets of the Krem- 


lin; in the foreground a foot-bridge, a draw-bridge, the 


g7a 


ebb b ab abe ob abe ob ole abrobe ole cbr ole obs obs obs ole ale oll obo ole 


BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


beams of which try to look like gibbets, boats with red 
sails, their tarry sterns adorned with a stripe of that 
pretty apple-green that Camille Roqueplan and William 
Wylde know so well how to reproduce, and a swarm 
of sailors, fishermen, peasant women, and porters hand- 
ling bales. 

It being yet too early for the Museum to be opened, 
I had myself driven at hap-hazard through the town, 
and everywhere I met with the same stamp of origi- 
nality. Many of the garden fences are of boards 
placed transversely and tarred over. A ditch, covered 
with those small lentil-like plants that give a verdigrised 
tone to sleeping waters, runs along the houses which 
do not stand on the banks of a canal. “The charming 
dwellings I passed mingled in delightful proportions 
Chinese fancifulness and Dutch exactness. 
- If at times the Javanese look of a pavilion surprises 
one, the remembrance soon recurs that Amsterdam has 
long enriched itself in Batavia. By their love for 
porcelain, lacquer and varnish, by their scrupulous 
cleanliness, their patient ways, their taste for flowers, 
painting, and odds and ends, the Dutch are uncommonly 
like the inhabitants of the Celestial Empire. It is 
from Holland that the Chinese obtain nowadays the 


VOL, Il. — 18 273 


bhbbbbhhhtbtebtt ht tothe tst 
BELGIUM AND. HODEART 


craquelé céladons, the verrucose bronzes, the web- 
like ivories, the idols of jade and pagodite, and the 
screens with relief designs the secret of which they 
have lost. All the porcelain manufactured for the 
past two hundred years in Pekin is to be found in 
Amsterdam. 

In the course of my drive I had noticed a large 
number of wreaths of foliage adorned with gilt paper 
and tinsel, from which depended little tin fishes. I 
was told that it was in celebration of the herring having 
struck in. As a matter of fact the herring is one of 
the sources of the wealth of Holland, and the city was 
right to rejoice. Strange indeed is this migration of 
-fish that start from the Pole at a fixed date and go forth 
to pile themselves up in the salt barrels of every nation 
bordering on the ocean. 

The dress of the citizens of Amsterdam in nowise 
differs from that of the Parisians or of the Londoners. 
The women of the middle classes have but one char- 
acteristic garment, a jacket that falls very low and 
forms a sort of coat. It is almost always of cheap 
lilac print; lilac, indeed, appeared to me to be the 
favourite colour of the Low Countries. It might even 


be thought to exclude every other shade, were there 


274 


rit 


Copyright, 1901, by George D. Sproul 


Russian Peasant Girl 


dec bech hob bab bch bbb bob 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


not some pink exceptions, few in number, it is true, 
to prove that fancy is admissible in the matter of 
jackets. It is perhaps puerile to remark that all the 
women have the same shape of nose, long, white, and 
rather turned up, with very wide nostrils. A mould 
could not give more identical copies. I draw the 
attention of future tourists to this fact. For the rest 
the women are pretty enough, and recall the types 
consecrated by Gerard Dow: plump fairness and 
gentle sadness. 

A few peasant women from the isles of the Zuyder- 
zee and from the provinces more remote from the 
invasion of new ideas, wear the splendid headdress 
worthy of a medieval queen, which consists of silver 
lace and gold plates placed on the temples, and which 
is at once most graceful and noble. 

One thing which surprises the traveller is the wheel- 
less vehicle, the Dutch name of which escapes me, 
placed on a sledge, like quarter casks of beer with us. 
These peculiar vehicles are becoming rarer, and will 
soon have wholly disappeared. One is also struck by 
the huge size and strange shape of the horses, that are 
shod with a sort of pattens that increases their height 


by several inches. Their arched heads, their monstrous 


2p 


ebbhbhbAAEAKEALAALAL LE LAL LLY 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


cruppers, their swelling necks, their hoofs covered with 
huge masses of hair, their wild manes and their long 
tails recall the equestrian portraits by Van Dyck, the 
battle-scenes by Van der Meulen, the hunting-scenes 
by Parrocel and Lauterbourg. In France these power- 
ful Frisian and Mecklenburg breeds are now rarely 
met with. 

It was now ten o’clock and the Museum was open. 
In a few minutes I should be gazing upon the splendid 
masterpiece of the great master. 

The first thing that catches the eye as one ascends 
the stairs in the Museum at Amsterdam, is a gigantic 
swan, with wings displayed, feathers ruffled, beak half 
opened, in an attitude at once anxious and protecting. 
Although a divine soul breathes under the snowy 
whiteness of the noble bird, it is not intended to be an 
incarnation of Jupiter going to seduce Leda; the 
painter, Asselyn, sought to symbolise in this emblem 
the vigilance of the Grand Pensioner, Jean De Witt. 
I found this out from the guide book; I could never 
have made it out for myself. But never did Snyders 
or Jordaens paint a finer picture. 

“The Night Watch,” the largest work ever painted 
by Rembrandt, fills almost the whole of one side of a 


276 


che abe che abe abe he che he che che che crcl eh abe ede abled ob bea abe elnede 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


room that might be better lighted. T’o remedy this, 
the painting is mounted on a bracket that allows the 
picture to be drawn from the wall until the right light 
has been obtained. 

Before I speak of this marvel, it may not be out of 
place to tell under what circumstances it was painted 
and what is the theme the artist has treated. 

If there be anything that confirms the theory I have 
so often put forth and maintained, namely, that to 
painters of true genius the subject is a matter of ut- 
most indifference, it is assuredly the wondrous painting 
in the Museum at Amsterdam. Its name, “ The 
Night Watch,” might lead people who have not seen 
it, to imagine that it represents some mysterious and 
fantastic scene, a nightmare of shadow and terror such 
as Rembrandt sketched so well; but there is nothing 
so poetical about it; the picture merely represents the 
assembling of the National Guard of the day. 

If one looks up Wagenaar, the author of a history 
of Amsterdam, one finds that the militia was ordered, 
on May 4, 1642, to be ready for a review that was to 
take place on the evening of the 1gth, under penalty 
of twenty-five guldens fine in case of absence. The 


object was to receive the Prince of Orange who was to 


By 


LLELEALE PL SLSESAAEALAELEL LAS 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


arrive accompanied by the daughter of Charles I of 
England, whom he had just taken in marriage. It 
surely was impossible to give a painter a more insignifi- 
cant and more prosaic subject. Modern efforts along 
this line suffice to indicate what such a subject now 
brings forth. It must be borne in mind also that it 
was necessary to put the big wigs of the militia well in 
front, and to attain resemblance in the case of each 
and every one, for most of these faces are portraits, and 
the queer names of their owners have been preserved. 
It may be assumed that all these worthies had not 
received written summonses to turn out, or else that 
the use of such notices was unknown in the good city 
of Amsterdam, for the beat of the drum seems to have 
surprised them in the midst of their occupations: they 
are hurrying as though a single minute’s delay would 
involve the fine of twenty-five gulden; they rush forth — 
half dressed; one man is buttoning his jacket, and 
another is drawing on his gloves as he goes. The 
whole scene is filled with infinite movement, disorder, 
and rush. ‘The Spartans under Leonidas did not 
spring to arms to defend the Thermopyle with greater 
courage than these worthy and debonair Dutch citizens 


going to meet the Prince of Orange. 


278 


$etet¢t¢¢¢t¢ttebeetteteees 
mieeGtLU Ma AND? MOL GA NID 


You are aware of the fanciful taste of the Leyden 


miller’s son in the matter of the costumes he puts on 
his figures; well, he never was more amazingly start- 
ling than in this inoffensive meeting of militia-men. It 
is true that the costumes of the day lent themselves 
more readily to painting than do those of our times. 
The jackets of embroidered leather, the points, the 
wide-topped boots, the helmets, the breastplates, the 
neckplates, the broad baldrics, the swords with heavy 
shell guards, all these, even when worn by a militia- 
man, may furnish opportunities to the brush of a skil- 
ful painter. What Rembrandt has made of them 1s 
absolutely prodigious; never was the fury of execution 
carried to such a pitch; there is a temerity in the 
work of the brush, a craze of impasto of which 
Decamps’ most violent sketches do not give even a 
faint idea. Some of the gold lace is modelled in full 
relief; some of the foreshortened fingers have been 
done at one stroke of the brush, while there are noses 
that fairly stand out of the canvas. It is at once the 
strangest thing and one that redounds to the glory of 
Rembrandt that this execution so incredible in its bru- 
tality, is at the same time extremely delicate. It is a 


finish obtained by fisticuffs and kicks, but such as the 
279 


LELELELELELELLAELELLAE LEE 


Whe ete oho We dhe oe ste ce. ene. ote abe boobs we ore 


BELGIUM) AND’ HOLTLAMNE 


most careful painters have never been able to attain. 
From the chaos of broken touches, from the tumult of 
shadows and lights, from the masses of colour cast on 
as if at hap-hazard, there springs supreme harmony. 
Rembrandt, who, of all men, assuredly cared least 
for the Greeks and Romans, and whose mighty triv- 
lality accepts unhesitatingly the meanest aspects of 
nature, does not, on that account, as might easily be 
believed, lack style and elevation of thought. By 
means of the peculiar accent he imparts even to the 
objects he has most faithfully reproduced, by the 
romantic quaintness of his costumes, and the deep 
thoughtfulness of even the ugliest faces he paints, he 
attains a monstrous beauty more easily felt than de- 
scribed. His work has a formidable character that 
brings it up to the level of all masterpieces. The fan- 
tastic and masterly manner in which he handles light 
and shade, the sublime effects of chiaroscuro which he 
evolves, make of him as poetical an artist as ever lived. 
All he needs to move you and make you thoughtful for 
a whole day is an old man rising from his arm-chair, 
and a star scintillating against a dark background. 
These worthy Dutchmen have been provided by his 


brush with curled up mustaches and beards, bristling. 


280 


Sebtteeetettrtttttttttteee 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


eyebrows, hands on hips, martial poses and hectoring 
airs. Never did condottieri, landsknechts, or Stradiotes 
look more surlily grim ; Salvator Rosa’s brigands look 
like peaceful citizens by the side of these worthy 
militia-men. Iche drummer, in particular, is beating 
his drum with relentless fierceness, while he casts 
glances fit to make the earth quake with terror. On 
the other hand nothing can be more engaging, more 
fair, more golden than the little maid dressed in yellow 
seen through an almost inextricable collection of legs 
and arms. | 

This painting,'so Wagenaar further tells us, adorned, 
as late as 1764, the court room of the aforesaid militia. 
What a pleasure it must have been in those days to 
fail to report for guard duty! A man was summoned 
before the court, and while he was being tried could 
gaze undisturbed upon the wondrous painting hung 
behind the bench of judges. ‘Times have changed 
indeed: Where is the militia regiment that would 
dream of ordering a picture of Delacroix and hanging 
it up in its court room? 

This brilliant painting bears the date of 1642, at 
which time Rembrandt had attained mature age and 


the full ripeness of his talent. It is a strange fact that 


281 


$etetetbteetettttettotttte 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


the earlier paintings of the Dutch painter are quiet, 
polished and finished in execution, of a light, fair 
colour, and reposeful in effect. As he grows older he 
warms up, instead of cooling down ; instead of becom- 
ing more careful, he lets himself go; instead of atten- 
uating, he exaggerates. Having completely mastered 
technique, he yields to his fancy; day by day his 
originality develops and becomes more striking; he 
works over the thick, dark colour with his lion claws 
and with incredible ferocity ; his mane becomes wilder 
and more and more tawny and ruddy; no cavern, how- 
ever pitchy dark, now has terrors for him; he plunges 
boldly in, sure that with a single touch he will light up 
the darkness as with a torch. 

Fine indeed is it to watch a master to whom advanc- 
ing age gives whatever it takes from others. Happy 
the artist who listens not to the timid counsels of 
prudence and who becomes bolder and bolder at the 
very time when the most fiery cool down, and, upborne 
by an inflexible conviction, carries his originality to the 
extreme of fury and even extravagance. No painter, 
no poet has said his last word. Strong and glorious 
are those who persistently seek to know themselves, 


who reject from their own nature whatever it may 


282 


BEEGIUM AND HOLL 


b> 
Z 
0 


hold of undefined and commonplace, and who de- 
velop their special qualities without caring for the 
clamours of the critics and the bridling up of the 
bourgeois. 

There is also in this Museum another painting by 
Rembrandt: “The Syndics of the Cloth Market,” a 
work of the first rank and so superbly painted that 
it would compel attention for a whole day, but for the 
fact that the ‘Night Watch ” stands near it, eclipsing 
everything else in the gallery and depriving you at one 
and the same time of the desire and the ability to look 
at anything else. 

That evening, still dazzled by the masterpiece, I 
was wandering by one of the great canals that run 
into the harbour, and met a canvas sentry-box walking 
along. It was the local Punch and Judy which, hav- 
ing no doubt failed to secure an audience, was sadly 
wending its way home. ‘The impresario’s wife accom- 
panied the theatre and guided it on its way. I signed 
to her to stop, and made her understand, by a continu- 
ous pantomime of coin, that I desired to enjoy an 
immediate and special performance of the immortal 
drama that no poet has succeeded in equalling. 


The Dutch Punch, or Punchinello, is utterly 


SALELLALALALEALALE ALLL A SAS 
BELGIUM AND HOUDAN® 


unlike the type generally known by that name; he 
wears a black mustache, no hump or but a small 
one, and has a rascally air peculiarly his own. He 
thrashes his wife, his friend, his neighbours, the 
charcoal burner, the knife grinder; he fights the devil, 
the police officer, the executioner; in a twinkling the 
front of the box is covered with a heap of dead and 
wounded. So far, the behaviour of the Dutch Punch 
is nothing out of the common, but at this point the 
drama becomes of terrifying proportions and attains a 
depth of thought worthy of the second part of 
“Faust.” The victorious Punch strides across the 
field of battle, indulging in the mad hilarity and the 
disorderly gestures characteristic of triumphant heroes, 
when there suddenly appears a little doll brilliantly 
dressed in gauze and tinsel, that takes to dancing a 
polka and smiting Punch so hard with the tip of her 
foot, that he soon falls lifeless upon the bodies of his 
victims. Punch dead, the dancer starts upon a prodi- 
giously rapid waltz, leaves the ground and whirls her- 
self into the heavens. 

So, mighty Punchinello, who fearedst neither thy wife, 
nor the police, nor the executioner, nor the devil him- 


self, thou art cast down and destroyed by a polka, and 


284 


REALE ALLELLLALLLLAALAAL LES 
BPEEGIUM AND HOLLAND 


a slim doll has proved mightier than all the powers of 
earth and heaven | 
After the “ Night Watch” I was bound to see 


> 


“© Doctor Tulp’s Lesson of Anatomy,” which is in the 
Hague Museum. A dashing sketch by my friend 
Chenavard, to say nothing of the engraving of it met 
with everywhere, had filled me with the liveliest desire 
to behold the original. I therefore took the train for 
the Hague; the line running along the inland gulf 
called the Harlem Zee. 

It is impossible to imagine anything more smiling, 
more dainty, cleaner or better kept than the little houses 
with their bright red roofs that shine amid their green 
gardens like apis on moss. One cannot help saying to 
one’s self : “« How gladly would I end my days in one of 


b] 


these lovely homes; ”’ so surely does it seem that one 
must necessarily be happy inthem. One forgets that 
all these pretty places are undermined by water, from 
which they have been reclaimed by the large use of 
piles, and that lurks in those verdant, undulating 
meads that form a velvet mantle for the alluvial mud 
soil. 

The Hague, which I reached that evening, is an un- 


commonly picturesque city; the trees, houses and 


285 


bbetttettttetttebttttttttst 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


canals appear to have been arranged for the special 
delectation of water-colour painters. In particular there 
are water-lanes bordered by gardens and fanciful build- 
ings of the most charming effect. The palace, which 
was pointed out to me, is remarkable only for its sim- 
plicity. Among the pictures it contains, almost all by 
modern artists, my attention was drawn to a number 
painted by a dark-skinned Polynesian prince who had 
been sent to Europe to be educated. He was called 
Radin-Saleh. A very characteristic soldier’s head and 
lions fighting over a prostrate buffalo, painted by 
him, struck me by the vigour and dash of the touch. 

Opposite the palace rises a sort of modern Gothic 
castle, in front of which has been set up the Count de 
Niewkerke’s bronze statue of William the Silent. 
This equestrian statue looks infinitely better at the 
Hague than it did in Paris. The courtyard of this 
neo-medizval building is full of Senegal storks, crested 
herons and other rare birds. 

Pictures are late risers in Holland, so, while waiting 
for the opening of the Museum, I went to visit the 
park that surrounds the Summer Palace, although the 
weather was turning to rain. Imagine huge trees, 


mostly ash and elms, whose roots are almost always 
y ) 


286 


bebe tbttbbebetetbttebeeee 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


in the water and which outspread their rich green 
foliage over ponds, lakes, and streams whose tranquil 
surface cradles their sombre reflections; duckweed, 
water-lilies, all the cold family of aquatic plants fill the 
ditches cut by the side of the roads; a cool moisture 
freshens the air even when the heat is greatest and 
imparts to the vegetation an extraordinary vigour. At 
every group of picturesquely twisted trunks, at every 
azure perspective through the thick foliage, at every 
sheaf of plants bending under the weight of the 
dew, I said to myself: “If only the French land- 
scape painter who succeeded in discovering such mar- 
vellous sites in the park at Saint-Cloud were here !” 
The Residence is the most delightful dwelling that 
ever poet dreamed of; unfortunately poets never be- 
hold the realisation of their dreams. There was one 
drawing-room in particular, hung with Chinese tapestries 
of exquisite and fabulous beauty, the subjects of which 
were the four Seasons, represented by the various 
agricultural pursuits proper to each of them. In 
another room were birds embroidered in relief upon a 
background of white satin. Fairies themselves could 
not have worked them more daintily and delicately ; it 


was nature itself imitated with that superabundance of 


287 


ttetebtttebe]tetttttttetts 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


arabesques and perspective of which the learned igno- 
rance of the Chinese alone possesses the secret. 

The hall, which is more than forty feet in height 
from the ceiling to the floor, is painted from top to 
bottom with allegorical designs in honour of the House 
of Nassau, by Jordaens and pupils of Rubens. It is 
unique in its way. There are perfect avalanches of 
golden hair, of pink and white flesh, streams of nude 
women that would scandalise the zsthetic school of 
Overbeck. When the Flemish painters of that day 
had the chance to indulge in theological virtues and 
symbolical figures, they did so to their hearts’ content. 
It is really most comical and amazing to see what 
Prudence, Chastity, Good Faith, Justice and other sub- 
stantives personified for the benefit of princes who 
wish to have their palaces decorated, become under 
their sensual brushes. Happily these men were thor- 
oughly acquainted with all the resources of the palette, 
and the beauty of the execution prevents one thinking 
of the esthetic side of their work. | 

There is especially a triumphal entry of some prince 
or other of the dynasty, painted by Jordaens propria 
manu, and which is unquestionably the most astounding 


mélée of naked women, lions and horses, that ever 


288 


che he beak obs oe oe oe abe oe coche obec be che sehr cde e abe eee 


Bee GbUWM AND: FROL LAND 


roared upon the length of a peaceful wall; the torrent 
of satiny flesh, golden manes, bluish quarters, cheeks as 
ruddy as if they were about to burst into flames, pro- 
duces the strangest possible effect. I admit unrestricted 
fancy, but it is really impossible to perceive in this 
work anything that looks like a prince of Nassau or 
Orange. It is true that the painting is a wonder, which 
at once destroys the value of my criticism. 

The rain, which had been threatening since the 
morning, now began to fall, first in drops, then in 
buckets, then in pools, and finally in cataracts; bands 
of toads joyously hopped over the soaked sand of the 
walks, and the water seemed to leap from the ground 
to meet the rain. I found a temporary refuge in a 
little café, situated in the centre of the park ; and while 
a carriage was being fetched, I watched the handsome 
emerald leaves shining under the drops as the dust of 
June was being washed off them by the beneficent 
shower; I admired the white trunks, polished like 
pillars, and spotted here and there with pretty patches 
of moss; and this with the greater wonder because I 
had just been told that the vast and shady park was like 
a forest planted on a floor, the soil being so marshy, so 


shifting, so interpenetrated by water, that it had been 


VOL. II. — 19 289 


bbeteeedetetetetbtttttttts 
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 


necessary to stiffen it by means of a wooden flooring 
covered with a layer of loam. 

The carriage came up, and a quarter of an hour 
later I was in presence of “ Doctor Tulp’s Lesson 
of Anatomy.” ‘The painting is so completely different 
in aspect from the “ Night Watch,” that at first sight 
it might well be supposed to be the work of another 
master. When Rembrandt painted it, he was only 
twenty-six! It is a masterpiece, and a quiet master- 
piece. 

Placed in the amphitheatre of the School of Surgery, 
the painting remained there until 1828, when the 
worthy idiots of the day proposed to sell it by auction 
for the benefit of some charity or another. The day was 
fixed and the masterpiece was no doubt about to be lost 
to Holland, when the King forbade the sale, gave the sur- 
geons thirty-two thousand florins, and had the superb 
painting hung in the Hall of Honour in the Museum 
at the Hague. 

Doctor Nicholas Tulp, who, it appears, presented 


’ 


the College with the “Lesson of Anatomy,” is sur- 
rounded by seven distinguished personages of the day : 
Jacob Block, Hartmann, Andriaan Salbran, Jacob de 


Witt, Matthys Kalkoen, Jacob Koelveld, and Franz 


290 


SLEKKEE AL AES tttt tte 
BEEGIUM AND HOLLAND 


Leonen, who are listening to an anatomical demonstra- 
tion by the learned professor with admirable intensity 
of attention. 

It is the simplest and most striking of compositions, 
while at the same time it is not a composition at all. 
A foreshortened body, the breast well lighted and the 
legs in shadow, is stretched upon atable. The pro- 
fessor, standing by, raises the muscles of the arm with 
a pair of surgical pincers, and is apparently describing 
them. The dead body, pale and bloodless, surrounded 
by these grave personages, with fair beards and faces 
that are pleasant and intelligent notwithstanding their 
sinister occupation, fixes itself in the memory in indel- 
ible fashion. 

In this work the manner of the painter is sober, 
restrained, precise. He has made no use of impasto, 
high lights or visible touches; all is soft, melting, and 
polished. There is not to be found in this picture the 
warm, vaporous, shadowing tint that gilds and veils 
the other works of the master; but how sure of him- 
self he is already, how deeply learned and how strong 
in his moderation. 

This ‘Lesson of Anatomy” strikes me as being 


one of the masterpieces the study of which would be 


291 


thtbbebbtbbeeebebbbbh bbe 


CS GO UTS CFO FO CFO OHO 


BELGIUM AND HODDAND 


in the highest degree profitable to young painters of 
the Colourist school. ‘Thanks to the wondrous spell 
of art, that hideous subject which, in reality, would 
make any one but a surgeon turn away his eyes, holds 
and fascinates you for hours at a time, though nothing 
is dodged, nothing dissimulated and frank horror could 
not be carried farther. | 

I must not forget a “Susannah at the Bath,” a 
sketch or a replica on a smaller scale, with a few 
changes, of the magnificent life size “Susannah,”’ that 
was exhibited for a short time at Susse’s and purchased 
by M. Paul Perier. 

Paul Potter’s great picture, representing a bull, and 
the reputation of which is world-wide, did not impress 
me quite as favourably as it should have. I have seen 
such proud handsome bulls in Spain that this cottony 
animal failed to delight me. 

An “ Eden,” by Paradise Breughel, and ‘ Adam 
and Eve,” by Rubens, and the portraits of that artist’s 
two wives, are works one cannot help looking at, even 
when one has resolved, as I had, to look but at one 
single painting by a single chosen master. 

On the ground floor of the Museum of Painting 
there is displayed the greatest collection of Chinese 


292 


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BELGIUM “AND HOLLAND 


curiosities, barbaric weapons, and other cddities. 
Everything is to be found there, even authentic sirens 
and fauns. 

From the Hague I went to Rotterdam, passing 
through Delft and Schiedam, in order to catch the 
steamer that was to take me to England by way of the 
Meuse and the Thames. The sea passage would take 
about thirty hours, but I had seen the “ Night 
Watch” and the “ Lesson of Anatomy,” and in this 
world you must pay for everything; Napoleon him 


self said so. 


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A Day in London 


HAD spent the night at a masked ball, and 
there is nothing so depressing as the morning 
after a ball. I therefore came to a sudden 
decision and resolved to treat my complaint homeo- 
pathically ; so within a few hours, having barely got 
rid of my caftans, poniards, and Turkish rig, I was 
on my way to London, the native place of spleen. 
Perfidious Albion met me in the stage-coach, in the 
shape of four Englishmen surrounded and fortified with 
all manner of instruments of comfort, and not know- 
ing a word of French, so that my English trip began 
without delay. At Boulogne, a town wholly Angli- 
cised, I was compelled to have recourse to a pathetic 
pantomime in order to make the people understand that 
I was hungry and sleepy, and that I wanted supper 
and a bed. At last they fetched a dragoman who 
translated my requests, and I managed to eat and 
sleep. English only is understood in Boulogne. I do 
not know whether, on the other hand, French is the 
idiom spoken by the inhabitants of Dover, but I do 


not believe it is. I have already noticed several times 


297 


on our frontiers this invasion of the customs and 
speech of our neighbours. ‘The sort of faint tint that, 
on maps and in reality, separates nations, is washed out 
on the French side rather than on that of the next 
kingdom. ‘Thus, all the Channel seaboard is English ; 
Alsace is German on its edges; Flanders is Belgian ; 
Provence Italian, and Gascony Spanish. A man who 
knows pure Parisian only is often hard put to it in 
these provinces, and if the frontier be crossed, not a 
single trace of French is to be found. 

At six in the morning I stood on the deck of the 


> 


“« Harlequin” steamer. Do not look for a description 
of a storm, in which Neptune makes his appearance 
with a green beard and urges on his sea-coursers. 
The Channel, which is said to be so capricious and 
stormy, was as clement to me as was the Mediterra- 
nean in old days, though, of course, the Mediterranean 
is but a sky set upside down, and just as blue and 
as limpid as the other. 

Two or three hours later, a white line, resembling a 
cloud, arose out of the azure main: it was the coast 
of England, which owes its name Albion to the colour 
of its shores. The immense precipitous cliff, steep 


like the wall of a fortification, is Shakespeare’s Cliff; 


298 


check akc ch doh chee debe ecb ates tech oh hech 
A DAY IN LONDON 


the two little black dots are the openings of a railway 
viaduct in course of construction; at the foot of the 
bay is Dover with its tower which, it is claimed, may 
be seen from Boulogne in clear weather — but it never 
is clear weather. The day was very fine; there was 
not a cloud in the sky, yet a diadem of dense vapour 
crowned the brows of Old England. ‘The country, so 
far as it was visible, looked, though denuded by winter, 
neat, clean, well cared for, carefully raked over; the 
chalk cliffs, precipitous as walls, and at the feet of 
which the sea hollows out caves for the benefit of 
smugglers, heightened the regularity of the prospect. 
Here and there showed mansions and cottages in 
strange styles of architecture, with huge towers, crene- 
lated walls, covered with ivy and broken down in 
places, and, at the distance at which we were, re- 
sembling Gothic castles so closely that the mistake 
was pardonable. ‘These various citadels and donjons 
with drawbridges and battlements, provided even with 
cannon and culverin in bronzed wood, give to the 
shore line a rather picturesquely grim and bristly look, 
though internally they are furnished with the most re- 
fined luxury. There was pointed out to me, standing 


in the centre of a great park, a white house with 


£99 


tebbbebbtttettetttttth hk 
A DAY IN LONDON 


Gothic finials, though of modern construction, which 
belongs to an enormously wealthy Jew, Mr. Moses 
Montefiore, who recently accompanied M. Crémieux 
to the East in connection with the question of the 
Damascus Jews. From this point the coast line curves 
up to Ramsgate. Within the curve lies Deal, the 
landing place of the Romans, it is said, on their first 
descent into England. I see no reason why it should 
not be the spot. Next is seen Walmer Castle, the 
seat of the Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, a dignity 
now held by the Duke of Wellington. Then comes 
Sandwich, and a little farther on Ramsgate, a pleasure 
resort of Londoners, the straight streets and tall houses 
of which seem to run right into the water. All this is 
beautiful, no doubt, yet the real prospect, the view so 
fine that one does not care for any other, is not that on 
the land but that on the sea. 

In the Downs, opposite Deal, more than two hun- 
dred wind-bound vessels are waiting for a favourable 
breeze in order to get out of the Strait; some are 
coming, others going; they are everlastingly on’ the 
move. Whichever way one turns, the smoke of 
steamers and the dark or bright silhouettes of ships are 


seen against the sky line. Everything indicates the 


300 


approach to the Babylon of the seas. On the French 
side there is absolute solitude: not a ship, not a 
steamer. The farther one goes the greater the crowd 
of vessels. The horizon is filled with them; sails 
swell like domes, masts rise like spires, the rigging 
forms a maze; it looks like a vast Gothic city afloat ; 
like a Venice that has dragged its anchors and is com- 
ing to meet one. ‘The lightships, their scarlet sides 
showing by day, their red lights by night, point out the 
way to these flocks of vessels whose sails are their 
fleeces. [hese have come from the Indies, manned 
by a crew of Lascars; those are homeward bound 
from the Northern seas, and the ice on their sides 
has not yet had time to melt. Here are China and 
America bringing their tea and sugar, but in the multi- 
tude, the British ships are always recognisable by their 
sails, dark as those of Theseus’ ship leaving for Crete, 
a sombre livery of mourning they owe to the wretched 
London climate. 

The Thames, or rather the estuary into which its 
waters flow, is so wide and the banks themselves so 
low that these cannot be seen from the centre of the 
stream. It is only after steaming many a mile that 


one at Jast makes them out, narrow, flat, black lines 


301 


ie 


che oe ofa abe abe abe abe abe obocdecbe fede cb obo cde echoes he chk 


of 
ACID ACY) (DNL OREO 


between the gray sky and the turbid water. ‘The nar- 
rower the river becomes, the more compact grows the 
crowd of vessels; the paddles of the steamers that 
ascend or descend lash the waters constantly and piti- 
lessly ; the smoke that issues from their iron funnels 
mingles its black plumes and forms new banks of 
clouds in the heavens that could very well dispense 
with this addition. The sun, if the sun showed in 
London, would be darkened by them. On every hand 
are heard the groans and the hissings of the lungs of 
the engines, from out whose iron nostrils issue jets 
of boiling steam. 

It is most painful to listen to these strident, asth- 
matic breathings; to the groans of matter at bay and 
driven to despair; it seems to complain and to call for 
mercy, like a worn out slave whom an inhuman master 
overburdens with work. Iam well aware that manu- 
facturers will laugh at me, yet I am not far from 
sharing the views of the Emperor of China, who pro- 
scribes steamers as an obscene, barbarous, and immoral 
invention. I think it is an impious thing to torment in 
such fashion God’s creation, and I believe Dame Na- 
ture will one day avenge herself for the ill treatment she 


has to put up with at the hands of her too avid children. 


302 


LEELA ALA LEAP ALA LL LAL ELA 
AODAY) INyY LOM DON 


Besides steamers, sailing-vessels, brigs, schooners, 
frigates, from the huge three-master to the simple fish- 
ing-boat, to the punt in which two people can scarce 
find sitting room, follow each other uninterruptedly 
and unceasingly, forming an endless naval pageant in 
which every nation in the world is represented. All 
these craft come and go, ascend or descend, cross each 
other and avoid each other in orderly confusion, pre- 
senting the most marvellous spectacle which it is given 
to man to behold, especially when one is fortunate 
enough, as I was, to see it enlivened and gilded by the 
rays of the sun. 

On the banks of the river, now drawing nearer, I 
could make out trees, houses crouching on the bank, 
one foot in the water and the hand extended to seize 
the merchandise as it passed; ship-yards with immense 
sheds and the ribs of vessels in course of construction, 
resembling the skeletons of cachalots, showing strange 
against the sky. A forest of colossal chimney shafts, 
in the form of towers, of columns, of pylons, of 
obelisks, gave the sky line an Egyptian look, a most 
extraordinary resemblance to the distant outline of 
Thebes, of Babylon, of an antediluvian city, of the 


capital of awful sins and of the revolts of pride. In- 


aos 


febbbbbbbrttttbbtbtttb bbe 


he abs obs abe of, ob abe ofp obs ere ete ate 


A CD AYODN“ Eb O(NDIOd 


dustry, on such a scale, attains almost to poetry, to a 
poetry with which nature has nothing to do, and which 
is the result of the mighty development of human 
will. | 

Above Gravesend, the lower limit of the port of 
London, warehouses, foundries, and ship-yards are 
crowded together more closely, draw nearer each other 
and are heaped one upon another in most picturesque 
irregularity. On the left swell the two domes of the 
Royal Naval Hospital, Greenwich, through the colon- 
nade of which is perceived a background of park with 
great trees most charming in effect. Seated on the 
benches in the peristyles, the pensioners watch the 
coming and going of the ships, of the remembrance of 
which they are full and which form the staple of their 
conversations, while the salt odour of the brine still 
delights their nostrils. Sir Christopher Wren was 
the architect of this fine building. Local passenger 
steamers start every fifteen minutes from Greenwich 
and London simultaneously. Greenwich is opposite 
the Isle of Dogs, or rather the Peninsula of Dogs, 
where the Thames turns back on its course and forms 
an elbow that has been cleverly turned to account. 


Here are the East India Company’s docks. The 
hres 


| 
| 
, 


LPESALALELAELSLALLALLELAL ELSA 
A DAY IN LONDON 


West India docks, very much less large and less fre- 
quented, are on the right, at the centre of the curve 
formed by the river and a little below it. 

The East India docks are so enormous, gigantic, 
and fabulously large as to overpass human _propor- 
tions. ‘They are a work of Cyclops and Titans. 
Above the houses, warehouses, slopes, stairs, and in- 
numerable hybrid buildings that obstruct the approaches 
to the river, rises a prodigious avenue of ships’ masts 
prolonged indefinitely ; an inextricable maze of rig- 
ging, spars, and ropes that would put to shame, as far 
as the density of interlacing goes, the most abundant 
creepers in an American virgin forest. This is where 
is built, caulked, and hauled up that innumerable fleet 
of vessels that sail in search of the riches of the world, 
and then pour them into that bottomless gulf of 
wretchedness and luxury called London. ‘The East 
India docks can accommodate three hundred ships. 
A canal, called the City Canal, running parallel to the 
docks and which makes the peninsula into the Isle 
of Dogs, shortens by three or four miles the distance 
round the curve. 

The Commercial docks, on the opposite shore, the 


London docks and the Saint Catherine’s docks, below 


VOU II 20 305 


dbbbbcbch abcde oh 
IN LONDON 


the Tower, are no less wonderful. At the Commer- 
cial docks are the largest cellars in the world; it is 
there that are stored the wines of Spain and Portugal. 
And I have not included in this enumeration private 
docks and basins; every minute from out of a group 
of houses emerges the hull of a vessel; the yards poke 
into the windows, the gaffs penetrate into the rooms, 
and the dolphin-strikers seem to be smiting the ware- 
house doors like battering-rams of old. Houses and 
ships live on a footing of the most cordial and touching 
intimacy; when the tide is high, the courts and yards 
of the houses turn into basins and welcome vessels. 
Stairs, slopes, and basins of stone, of granite, of brick, 
ascend and descend from the river to the houses. A 
regular quay would spoil the familiarity of the river 
and the city; so picturesqueness is the gainer, for 
there is nothing so horrible as those everlasting straight 
lines, prolonged in spite of all, of which modern civili- 
sation is so stupidly fond. 

England is but one vast ship-yard; London is but a 
seaport. [he sea is an Englishman’s natural home; 
indeed these people enjoy it so much that many noble- 
men spend their lives sailing on perilous voyages in 


small vessels fitted out and commanded by themselves. 


306 


HLELHEAELALAALAPSAAAALLALLLA LLL 
AUDA Y) LN“ LONDON 


The Royal Yacht Squadron’s sole purpose is to en- 
courage this taste and afford opportunities for its devel- 
opment. The English dislike the land so much that 
they have installed a hospital in the very centre of the 
Thames, in a large ship, razeed, to which sailors falling 
sick while in London are taken. ‘The opinion ex- 
pressed by Tom Coffin, in Fenimore Cooper’s novel, 
“The Pilot,” namely, that the land is good only for 
the purpose of replenishing the stores and filling up 
with water, cannot strike the English as exaggerated. 
The fronts of all these houses look out upon the 
river, for the Thames is the main street of London, 
the arterial vein whence diverge the branches that bear 
the life blood to the body of the city. Wonderful 
therefore is the wealth of signs and notices! The 
buildings are bedizened from attic to cellar with letters 
of every size and colour; the capitals often are a story 
in height, for they have to be readable across a sheet 
of water seven or eight times as wide as the Seine. 
The glance rests upon the acroter of a curiously 
traceried house, and you wonder to what order of 
architecture it belongs. So far as charlatanry in 
advertising goes, the English are unrivalled, and I 


advise our people to take a trip to London to convince 


oe 


LEELEALLALLLLEALLALAAL ALS 
A DAY IN LONDON 


themselves of the fact that they are nowhere in com- 
parison. ‘The aspect of the houses thus adorned, pla- 
carded, streaked with inscriptions and posters, seen from 
the river, is quaint indeed. 

I was greatly surprised to behold intact, externally 
at least, the Tower which on the faith of the accounts 
in the newspapers, I had believed burned to the ground 
and reduced to ashes. It has lost nothing of its ancient 
appearance. It still stands, with its high walls, its 
sinister look and its low archway, the Traitors’ Gate, 
under which a black boat, gloomier than the bark of 
Charon, brought in the guilty and took away the con- 
demned to death. The Tower is not, as its name 
would seem to indicate, a solitary donjon, an isolated 
belfry, but a regular Bastile, a cluster of towers con- 
nected by walls, a fortress surrounded by moats fed 
from the Thames, with guns and drawbridges; a 
medizval fortress, at least as serious as our own Vin- 
cennes, and which contains a chapel, a menagerie, a 
Treasury, an arsenal, and many another curiosity. 

We were nearing the end of our voyage; a few 
revolutions of the paddle-wheels and the steamer would 
range alongside the Custom House wharf, where our 


trunks would be examined on the following day only, 


308 


LELLAALLAELAAEEALALALLL ALA LLL 
A DAY IN’ LONDON 


the Sunday being as scrupulously observed in London 
as the Jewish Sabbath in Jerusalem. 

Never shall I forget the splendid prospect outspread 
before me. The gigantic arches of London Bridge 
spanned the river in five tremendous spans, and stood 
out black against the sunset sky. The disk of the sun, 
blazing like a shield made red hot in the furnace, was 
setting exactly behind the centre arch that cut upon its 
orb an incomparably bold and strong segment. A long 
stream of fire glittered and quivered upon the lipping 
waves; mist and smoke filled the space up to South- 
wark Bridge, the arches of which showed faintly 
through the haze. To the right and somewhat in the 
distance, shone the flames of gilded bronze that crown 
the giant pillar erected in memory of the Great Fire of 
1666; on the left the steeple of Saint Olave’s shot 
up above the roofs; monumental chimneys, that might 
well have been taken for votive columns were Ionic or 
Doric capitals accustomed to vomit forth smoke, broke 
the lines of the horizon in the happiest way, their 
vigorous tones bringing out still more strongly the 
orange and pale citron shades of the heavens. 

On turning round I saw a perfect City on the 


Waters, with its quarters and its streets formed of 


399 


che oe oe ofa che he ech che che ected ecb cde abe bebe clo abe tect 
A DAY IN LONDON 


ships, for it is at this bridge, the lowest down the river, 
that ships stop; up to that point the communication 
between the two banks is kept up by boats. The 
tunnel, between Rotherhithe and Wapping, will do 
away with this inconvenience when it is completed, 
that is in two or three months’ time. The great diffi- 
culty was to construct slopes that would enable vehicles 
to descend so low. It had been overcome by a series 
of circular ways with a gradient of only four feet in 
one hundred. As it was not possible to build a bridge 
under which vessels could pass, it was determined to 
-put the bridge under the ships and the river. This 
bold idea was conceived in the brain of a Frenchman, 
Brunel. ‘The two galleries forming the tunnel are en- 
tirely round, that being the form which presents the’ 
greatest resistance. The lower portion of the circle 
has been filled up to a level for the passage of vehicles; 
the lateral walls are concave. ‘The centre wall is 
pierced by small arches which allow pedestrians to pass 
from one part of the tunnel to the other. The length 
of the tunnel is thirteen hundred feet, and the upper 
portion of the archway is fifteen feet below the bed of 
the river. 


We landed. As I did not know a word of English, 


310 


ae che ae obs oe che abe abe abe abe oe abece secede obec cde ce oe ah chee 


I wondered somewhat how I should find the person to 
whom I was recommended. I had written very care- 
fully on a card the name of the street and the number 
of the house, and showed it to a cabman who, fortu- 
nately, could read, and off he went at lightning speed. 
The jokes about the slowness of cab horses, very 
appropriate in Paris, would be entirely out of place 
here, where hackney carriages drive as fast as the best 
horses of our private carriages. The cab in which I 
was seated, and which nearly corresponded to our own 
citadines, was of the shape most fashionable in Paris 
at the present time: very low wheels, the door straight 
and square like the leaf of a cupboard door, and the 
general appearance of a Sedan chair on casters. ‘This 
style of carriage, which is the very acme of elegance 
with us, is confined, in London, to hackney coaches. 
The interior is upholstered in plain American cloth. 
The driver tips a penny to the poor devil who opens 
the door, which is not the case in France, where it 
is the passenger who pays the groom. ‘The fare is at 
the rate of a shilling a mile, and increases in proportion 
to the distance traversed. “To be done with cabs, let 
me add that the most peculiar I have seen are a sort 


of very low cabriolet, on which the driver does not sit 


3Il 


chee baobab abe oe ob ab rede obec ca ooo ce ce eae fa 


re eM ote OFS OE 


A UDYA'Y.) ENOCH OUNeIIG 


by the side of the passenger, as in our tax-cabs, nor in 
front, as on our four-wheelers, but behind, where the 
footman usually sits; the reins pass over the hood and 
the man drives from over your head. ‘These minor 
details will no doubt strike lovers of esthetic discus- 
sions, sworn admirers of monuments and valuators of 
antiquities as being very insignificant, yet it is precisely 
these facts that make one people different from another 
and enable you to realise that you are in London and 
not in Paris. | : 

While my cab was rapidly traversing the streets that 
separate the Custom House from High Holborn, I 
kept looking out of the windows and marvelling at the 
amazing silence and solitude of the quarters through 
which I was passing. ‘The place looked like a dead 
city, like one of those cities peopled with petrified 
inhabitants of which Eastern tales tell. Every shop 
was closed and not a single human face showed at any 
window. Scarcely did a stray passer-by sneak past like 
a shadow. This gloomy and deserted aspect formed 
such a contrast with the bustling, busy London I had 
imagined, that I could not recover from my surprise. 
At last I recollected that it was Sunday and that I had 
been told that London Sundays were the very ideal of 


312 


REALE ALLE ALASEALAS AL ALLEL 
ee DAYS ENGL OND ON 


ennui. “That day, which is with us, at least so far 
as the popular element is concerned, a day of joy, of 
walks abroad, of dress, of feasting and dancing, is, on 
the other side of the Channel, a day of deepest gloom. 
The taverns close at midnight on the Saturday, the 
theatres give no performances, the shops are hermeti- 
cally closed, and the man who has not taken care to 
get in his supplies on the previous evening would find 
it very difficult to get anything to eat; life seems to 
be suspended, and the wheels of London cease revolv- 
ing, like those of a clock when the pendulum is stopped. 
For fear of profaning the dominical solemnity, Lon- 
don dare not budge and scarcely ventures to breathe 
even. On that day, after having heard a sermon by 
the preacher of the sect to which he belongs, every 
good Englishman shuts himself up within his house to 
meditate over the Bible, to offer up to God his feeling 
of boredom, and to enjoy, in front of a blazing fire 
the happiness of being neither a Frenchman nor a 
Papist, which is to him a source of unending bliss. 
At midnight the spell is broken, life, suspended for 
a time, is felt again, the houses reopen, the blood 
courses anew through the veins of the mighty frame 


that had fallen into a lethargy. 


313 


N LONDON 


The next day, pretty early, I started through the 
city, quite alone, as is my wont in a foreign country ; 
for above all I hate having a guide who compels me 
to look at everything I do not want to see and makes 
me. pass by everything that interests me. I carefully 
avoid monuments and what are called the beauties of a 
place. Monuments are usually composed of pillars, 
pediments, attics and other architectural parts which 
engravings and drawings reproduce with the utmost 
fidelity. I may say that I know every monument in 
Europe as well as if I had seen it, and indeed very 
much better. I know the churches and palaces of 
Venice, which I have never yet visited, by heart, and 
I have even written so accurate a description of that 
city that people refuse to believe I have never set foot 
in it. The ‘beauties’ of a city consist of over wide 
streets and squares, bordered with new and uniform 
houses. At least that is always what one is shown on 
such occasions. 

The first thing that struck me here was the immense 
width of the streets, lined with pavements broad enough 
for a score of people to walk abreast on. The low 
height of the houses makes the great breadth of the 


streets the more noticeable; our Rue de la Paix would 


314 


LLELLAE ELL EE 


$tt¢¢te¢¢¢¢r+ bob ek 
A AaY) SUNG LL ORN, D.O.N 


be almost a lane here. Wooden pavement for the 
streets which has been tried but on a few yards with 
us, is generally adopted in London, where it stands 
admirably a traffic thrice as large and as busy as that 
of Paris. The wheels run on that pine flooring quietly 
and smoothly, as on a carpet, and the inhabitants are 
spared the deafening rattling of carriages on granite 
paving. It should be added, however, that in London 
the width of the pavements enables pedestrians to give 
up the roadway to horses and vehicles, thus preventing 
the numerous accidents to which the absence of noise 
would otherwise give rise. Such streets as are not 
paved with wood are macadamised. 

So here I was, following streets at hap-hazard, and 
walking deliberately on like a man sure of his road. 
The shops were only just beginning to open. Paris 
rises earlier than London, which does not awake much 
before ten in the morning. On the other hand it goes 
to bed much later. Servants in bonnets, for women 
never leave off their bonnets, were washing and scour- 
ing the door-steps. 

As the inhabitants are not yet up, let us take a look 
at the houses, and describe the nest before describing 


the birds. English houses have no carriage gateways; 


315 


che ob oe ae ols oa le he ce ete cto toad heats abet tected abe daly 


AOD IACYS? 4 NYY ON Gaa ae 


very few have courtyards; they are separated from the 
pavement by a basement covered with bars or pro- 
tected by a railing. At the bottom of this trench are 
placed the kitchens, pantries and other offices. Coal, 
bread, meat — carried in hollowed boards — in a word 
all the provisions are taken down that way without 
interfering with the .comfort of the family. The 
stables are usually placed in separate buildings, not 
infrequently at quite a distance. Brick is the material 
generally employed in these buildings. English bricks 
are often of a yellowish ochre colour, false in tone, 
which, in my opinion, is not equal to the warm red 
tones of our bricks. Houses thus constructed have a 
sickly and unhealthy look most unpleasant to the eye. 
They are mainly of three stories, with two or three 
windows on the front, each dwelling being, as a 
general rule, inhabited by a single family. The 
window sashes are of the kind we call ‘ guillotine.” 
White stone steps, like a drawbridge spanning the 
trench in which are the kitchens and offices, connect 
the house and the street, and the door, painted in 
imitation oak, is generally adorned with a brass plate 
bearing the name and title of the owner. ‘These are 


the characteristic features of a regular English house. 


316 


check oe chao che oe oe oe echoed fo adoade obec cect oft aoe 


ore wre wo sre wTe wre 


AIDA LNT as Oa D. OuN: 


Besides the width of the streets and pavements and 
the low height of the houses, there is another thing 
which lends London a peculiar aspect ; it is the black 
colour that uniformly covers everything. It is most 
gloomy and depressing, for it is not the dark, rich, 
weather-worn appearance that time adds to old build- 
ings in more Southern countries, but an impalpable, 
subtile dust that clings to whatever it touches, that 
penetrates everywhere, and from which there is no 
escape. [he enormous quantity of soft coal burned 
in London for the heating of houses and in manu- 
factories, is one of the chief causes of the general 
mourning livery worn by buildings, some of the older 
of which look as though they had been painted over 
with blacking. This is particularly noticeable in the 
case of the statues; those of the Duke of Bedford, of 
the Duke of York on top of his column, and that of 
George III on _ horseback, resemble negroes or 
chimney-sweeps, so incrusted are they and so disfigured 
by that funeral quintessence of coal dust that falls from 
the London sky. Newgate prison, with its boss-work 
and its vermiculated stones, the old church of Saint 
Saviour’s and a few Gothic chapels, the names of 


which have escaped my memory, appear to have been 


an 


bbttetetbtretettetttttttettet 
AUDA Y) IN@ LONDOT 


built of black granite rather than to be darkened by time. 
Nowhere else have I seen that opaque, gloomy tint 
which lends to buildings, half veiled in mist, the air of 
great catafalques, and which would suffice to explain 
the traditional spleen of the English. As I looked 
upon these walls coloured by soot, I thought of the 
Alcazar and the Cathedral of Toledo, which the sun 
has clothed with a robe of purple and saffron. 

The dome of Saint Paul’s, a heavy imitation of Saint 
Peter’s at Rome, and a building of the same genus as 
the Pantheon and the Escorial, with its hump-backed 
cupola and its two square belfries, suffers cruelly from 
the influence of the London atmosphere. In spite of all 
the efforts made to keep it white, it is always black, at 
least on one side. In vain is paint lavished upon it, 
the imperceptible coal dust sifted by the fog gets ahead 
of the house-painter’s brush. St. Paul’s is a further 
proof of the fact that the dome form belongs to the 
East, while the Northern heavens require to be cut 
up by the spires and high pitched gables of Gothic 
architecture. 

The London sky, even when free from clouds, is of 
a milky blue in which whitishness prevails. It is of a 


markedly paler blue than the sky in France, and the 


318 


shoe bee oe oho be che abe ede cdecde ce cde 


chee of ect 
KODA) PNYAL OND ON 


mornings and evenings are always bathed in mists and 
veiled in vapours. In the sunshine, London smokes like 
a heated horse or a steaming caldron, producing those 
wonderful effects of light in open spaces that English 
water-colour painters and engravers have so admirably 
rendered. Often, even in fine weather, it is difficult to 
see Southwark Bridge clearly from London Bridge, 
although they are quite close to each other. The 
smoke, spreading everywhere, softens harsh angles, 
conceals the poverty of the buildings, increases the per- 
spective and imparts a peculiar mystery and distance to 
the most positive of objects. Thanks to it, the 
chimney shaft of a factory is easily turned into an 
obelisk, a wretched warehouse assumes the air of a 
Babylonian terrace, and a dull row of pillars is 
changed into a Palmyra portico. The symmetrical 
dulness of civilisation and the vulgarity of the forms it 
employs soften or disappear under that kindly veil. 
Wine dealers, so common in Paris, are replaced in 
London by distillers of gin and other strong liquors. 
The gin palaces are very fine, they are adorned with 
brass work and gilding and painfully contrast by their 
splendour with the wretchedness of the class that fre- 


quents them. ‘The doors are worn breast high by the 


319 


khbebbetteteretdebttbttttdtee 
ACDAY’ INS LONDOT® 


horny hands that are constantly pushing open their 
leaves. I saw entering one of these places a poor old 
woman who has remained in my memory like the re- 
membrance of a nightmare. 

1 have closely studied Spanish wretchedness, and I 
have often been accosted by the witches that posed for 
Goya’s “‘ Caprices.”” I have stepped over, at night, the 
beggars that slept on the steps of the Granada theatre ; 
I have given alms to Riberas and Murillos out of their 
frames, who were wrapped up in rags which, where 
they were not in holes, were stains; I have wandered 
through the dens of the Albaycin and followed the 
Monte Sagrado road, where the gypsies hollow out re- | 
treats for themselves in the rock and under the roots of 
the cacti and the fig-trees ; but never have I seen any- 
thing more gloomy, more sad, more _heart-sickening 
than that old woman entering the gin palace. 

She wore a bonnet, the poor wretch, but what a 
bonnet! Never did trained donkey wear one more 
lamentable, more worn, more rumpled, more ragged, 
more bashed in, more piteously grotesque. ‘The origi- 
nal colour of it had long become unrecognisable ; I could 
not tell you whether it had been white or black, yellow 


or violet. “To see her you would have thought she 


320 


keeeeteeetetetettttttt tee 
Pee DAT I NeY- LOM DIO N 


was wearing a scoop or a coal shovel. On her poor 
old body hung rags that I can compare to nothing so 
well as to the lamentable torn vestments hung up above 
the bodies of the drowned that are exposed at the 
Morgue, but, sadder than in these cases, in this one the 
body was living and upright instead of being laid out. 
How different were these awful rags from the good 
Spanish rags, tawny, golden and picturesque that may 
be reproduced by a great painter and which are the 
glory of a school and of a literature. Between the 
English wretchedness, cold and icy as winter rain, and 
the careless, poetical Spanish poverty that, if it lack a 
cloak, wraps itself up in a sunbeam, and that, if it lack 
bread, puts out its hand and picks up an orange or a 
handful of those delicious sweet acorns that Sancho 
Panza delighted in! 

A minute later the old woman came out of the gin 
shop, walking with her shoulders back like a soldier’s ; 
her earthy face had brightened up, a feverish red col- 
oured her cheek bones, and a smile of idiotic happiness 
fluttered upon her faded lips. As she passed by me, 
she lifted up her eyes and cast on me a look that was 
dark, deep, fixed and yet devoid of thought. No doubt 


that is how the dead look when by chance some impious 


VOL, II. — 21 321 


ttpbeebe'teettttttttttttttsts 
A £DAY TNE Of aie 


hand draws back their eyelids that are never again to 
open save to behold God. Then her pupils became 
dim and the glance flickered out like a coal dipped in 
water. [he strong gin was beginning to work, and 
she went on her way wagging her head with a stupid 
laugh. Blessed be thou, O gin, in spite of the declam- 
ations of philanthropists and temperance societies, for 
the moment of joy and repose thou bringest to the 
wretched. For such woes any remedy is legitimate, 
nor is the people mistaken in this. See how it hastens 
to drink the waters of Lethe under the name of gin. 
Strange art thou, O humanity, that insistest on the 
poor always preserving their reason in order that they 
may cease feeling the extent of their misery! You 
would do well, ye Englishmen, to send to Ireland the 
cargoes of opium with which you seek to poison the 
Chinese. 

A little farther on I beheld a similar and no less de- 
pressing sight; an old white headed man, already drunk, 
was mouthing out some foolish song as he gestured 
wildly; his hat had fallen to the ground, but he was 
unable to pick it up, and he leaned to the best of his 
ability against a wall three or four feet high, topped 


with an iron railing. 


322 


of 


te bbbtbebbeebebebbebh bd 
A DAY IN LONDON 


The wall was that of a graveyard, for in London 
they still keep up cemeteries in the city. A church 
of the most lugubrious aspect and smoky like the chim- 
ney of a forge, rose amid blackened tombs, some of 
which had that vague human shape like that of band- 
aged and boxed mummies. The drunken old man 
singing within a couple of yards of these tombs pre- 
sented a contrast most painful in its dissonance. Yet 
these two samples of the wretchedness of London were 
as nothing to what I was to behold later in Saint Giles’, 
the Irish quarter, though they impressed me more 
deeply, the old man and the old woman being the first 
two living beings I came upon. It is true that the 
homeless rise early. 

Meanwhile the streets were beginning to wake up, 
workmen, their white aprons tucked in their belts, 
were on their way to their work; the butchers’ boys 
were carrying round the meat in wooden boards; the 
carriages went by at a lightning pace; the busses, 
brilliantly painted and varnished, and covered with 
gilded signs indicating their route, followed each other 
almost uninterruptedly, with the passengers sitting on 
top and the conductors standing ona board by the door; 


these busses travel at a good pace, for London is so 


oe3 


RS CTS Ue OTS Fe GO UTS VTS wTe wre 


At MDA Y:: T.No 7 Or Naar 


huge, so immense, that the need of speed is much more 
felt than in Paris. ‘The activity of the locomotion 
contrasts strangely with the impassible air and the cold, 
phlegmatic physiognomy, to put it mildly, of the im- — 
perturbable pedestrians. “The English walk fast, like 
the dead in the ballad, and yet their faces betray no 
desire to reach their destination. “They run, yet do not 
seem to be in a hurry; they go straight ahead like a 
cannon ball, never turning if one knocks up against 
them, never apologising if they elbow anybody; the 
women themselves walk at a fast pace that would do 
honour to a storming party of grenadiers; their pace is 
the geometric virile gait which makes an Englishwoman 
recognisable all over the continent and which excites 
the laughter of the daintily stepping Parisian woman. 
Even the children go to school at a lively pace; idlers 
are unknown in London, although the badaud reap- 
pears as a cockney. 

London extends over an immense extent of ground; 
the houses are not very high, the streets are very wide, 
the squares numerous and spacious. Saint James’ 
Park, Hyde Park, Regent’s Park cover vast spaces, so 
one must hasten else one would never reach one’s 


destination before the next day. 


324 


bbbbbb bb bb bbb bh bob 
A DAY IN LONDON 


The Thames is to London what the Boulevard 
is to Paris, the main line of traffic. Only on the 
Thames, steamers take the place of omnibuses. These 
steamers are long, narrow, and of shallow draft, much 
like the ‘ Dorades”’ that used to ply between the 
Pont-Royal and Saint-Cloud. The trip costs six- 
pence, and one may go for that fare to Greenwich 
and Chelsea. There are stopping places near the 
bridges for the landing and embarking of passengers. 
Pleasant indeed are these short ten or fifteen minute 
trips, during which the picturesque banks of the river 
are unrolled before you as in a panorama. One can 
pass in this way under every bridge in London, and 
admire the three iron arches of Southwark Bridge, 
with their bold, wide span; the Ionic pillars which 
make Blackfriars’ Bridge look so elegant; the Doric 
pillars, so robust and solid, of Waterloo Bridge, un- 
doubtedly the handsomest in the world. As you 
descend below Waterloo Bridge you get a glimpse 
through the arches of Blackfriars’ Bridge, of the gigan- 
tic mass of Saint Paul’s, rising above an ocean of 
roofs, between the steeples of Saint Mary-le-Bone, 
Saint Benedict’s and Saint Matthew’s, with a part of 


the quay crowded with boats, ships, and stores. From 


3735 


bhbbbbeeeetttetttteeetoe 
AUDAY? DNL ONG 


Westminster Bridge is seen the ancient abbey, whose 
two huge square towers, recalling those of Notre-Dame 
in Paris, and which have at each corner a pointed bel- 
fry, rise through the mist; the three quaintly traceried 
steeples of St. John the Evangelist’s, to say nothing 
of the dentelations formed by the spires of distant 
churches, the great chimney stalks and the roofs of the 
houses. Vauxhall Bridge, the farthest up on this side, 
fitly closes the perspective. All these bridges, con- 
structed of Portland stone or of Cornwall granite, have 
been built by private companies, for in London the 
Government does not interfere in any such matters, 
and the cost of construction is met by tolls. These 
tolls are collected, so far as pedestrians are concerned, 
in a really ingenious manner, each person passing 
through a turnstile and causing a wheel placed in the 
collecting office, to revolve one cog at a time. In 
that way the number of persons who have passed 
through the day is noted with certainty, and fraud on 
the part of the employees is rendered impossible. 

You must forgive me if I keep on talking about the 
Thames, but the moving panorama it offers is so con- 
stantly new and grand that it is hard to get away from 


it. A forest of three-masters in the heart of a great 


326 


ketebetttetteettttttetes 
ee Lex a) LING TE ORNED.O-N, 


city is the finest spectacle the industry of man can 
offer to the eyes. 

We shall, if you please, reach at once the heart of 
the rich quarters, pass from Waterloo Bridge, by 
Wellington Street, to the Strand, up the whole length 
of which we shall proceed. Starting from the pretty 
little church of Saint Mary’s, so quaintly placed in the 
centre of the street, the Strand, which is enormously 
wide, is lined on either side with magnificent, sump- 
tuous shops that, if they lack the dainty elegance of 
those of Paris, have an air of richness and luxurious 
abundance. Here are the show-windows of the print- 
sellers, in which one may admire the masterpieces of 
English engraving, so easy, so soft, so full of colour, 
and unfortunately applied to the worst drawings in the 
world, for, if English engravers are superior to the 
French in the mastery of their art, the French surpass 
them in perfection of drawing. 

Queen Victoria’s portrait is exhibited in every pos- 
sible form in every shop-window ; sometimes she wears 
her royal robes, her diamond crown and her regal 
mantle; sometimes she is simply dressed as a private 
lady, either alone or accompanied by Prince Albert; in 


one engraving they are represented side by side in a 


Re 


beteeeeetertetee cools cos be es 
A: tD AYYSALIN al. O Neos 


tilbury, smiling away at each other in the most con- 
jugal fashion. I think I am not guilty of exaggeration 
when I say that Queen Victoria’s portrait is as com- 
mon in England as Napoleon’s in France. The young 
prince is also often represented, and in the toy shops 
are sold wax-peaches, called Windsor fruit, which, on 
being opened, show a baby, abundantly rouged and 
wrapped up in swaddling clothes, that claims to repre- 
sent the Prince of Wales. I am bound to add that 
while the majority of portraits are improved, embel- 
lished, flattered, and lovingly caressed by a courtier 
engraver, there is no lack either of coarse drawings, 
worked off with the characteristic dash of English 
caricaturists, who treat Her Majesty in the most 
cavalier fashion. 

Speaking of children’s toys, I noticed how much 
more serious English toys are than ours. ‘There were 
few drums, few trumpets, scarcely any Punches and 
soldiers, but, on the other hand, no end of steamships, 
sailing vessels, and railways with miniature engines and 
carriages, while the lantern slides, instead of repre- 
senting the comical misadventures of Jocrisse or some 
such subject, formed a complete course of astronomy, 


a complete planetary system. ‘There are also boxes 


328 


checked decks ob ee oh deeded decd oe ce chee ce detec 
A DAY IN LONDON 


of architectural blocks, with which all manner of build- 
ings may be constructed, and numerous other geomet- 
rical and physical pastimes that would not greatly 
delight Parisian children. 

This talk of shops reminds me of a bit of advertis- 
ing which our Paris charlatans will regret not having 
thought of. It is a question of mackintoshes, of 
waterproofs. In order to demonstrate triumphantly 
the waterproofing of his stuffs, the dealer has had the 
brilliant idea of nailing a part of one of his mackin- 
toshes on a frame, so as to form a sort of basin. Into 
this he has poured about as much water as would hold 
in a basin, and in it dart and swim a dozen gold-fish. 
To turn an overcoat into a fishpond and to enable 
lovers of the gentle craft to fish in the skirt of their 
waterproof, is assuredly the very acme of advertising, 
the highest effort of charlatanism. 

Proceeding towards Charing Cross, you see, at the 
corner of Trafalgar Square, the facade of Northumber- 
land House, easily known by a great lion whose tail 
sticking straight out is of mediocre effect, artistically 
speaking, although it is unquestionably novel. It is 
the lion of the Percys, and never did heraldic lion take 


such advantage of the right to assume a fabulous form. 


329 


ore OTe eTS VFO He OFS OTS OFO 


che oh oe ob oe By che obo de ol nbs che cb cbs obs ole ole ole oe oe obo ole obe stool 
A “DAY IN LONDON 


The marble staircase leading to the apartments is 
highly admired, as well as the collection of pictures, 
which consists, like all picture galleries, of paintings 
by Raphael, Titian, Paolo Veronese, Rubens, Albrecht 
Diirer, Van Dyck, besides Domenico Feti, Francia, 
Tempesta, Salvator Rosa, &c. I do not wish to cast 
doubts upon the gallery of the Duke of Northumber- 
land, not having seen it, but I think that one cannot 
place much reliance upon the genuineness of the paint- 
ings by old masters which are to be found in England. 
Although most of them have been purchased for very 
large sums, they are in general nothing more than 
copies. The number of Murillos I saw being manu- 
factured for the English market in Seville makes me 
suspect the Raphaels they own; their Van Dycks and 
Holbeins are far more authentic; they are portraits of 
lords or ladies and of high personages, painted on the 
spot, that have remained in the families as heirlooms, 
and the history of which is perfectly well known. 
What I say need trouble no one; those who fancy 
they possess a Raphael or a Titian, and who in reality 
have nothing more than seven or eight layers of oil 
colours in a handsome frame, need not be any the less 


happy ; faith saves. 
357 


keteekebteteeeeeetttttetsce 
oe 8) AMY ENTE ONE DON 


A monument to the memory of Nelson is being 
erected in the centre of Trafalgar Square, and until 
it is finished the hoarding around the space for the 
monument is covered with huge posters and monster 
bills, the letters of which are six feet high and of the 
most extraordinary shapes. ‘This is the spot for the 
advertising of phenomena, unusual shows and dramatic 
performances. 

Really the English overdo Waterloo and Trafalgar. 
I know very well that we ourselves are not free from 
the mania of adorning our streets and bridges with the 
names of our victories, but our repertory is at least a 
little more varied. 

Regent Street, which is arcaded like the Rue de 
Rivoli, Piccadilly, Pall Mall, the Haymarket and the 
Opera, which may best be compared to the Odéon in 
Paris, Carlton Place and Saint James’ Park, and the 
Queen’s Palace, with its triumphal arch in imitation 
of that of the Carroussel, make this part of London one 
of the most splendid of the city. 

The architecture of the houses, or rather of the ~ 
palaces which form this quarter, inhabited by the 
wealthy, is quite grandiose and monumental, although 


the composition is hybrid and often equivocal. Never, 


33/ 


whe obo obs obs ls ably abl ober obs abe be cdo abe ob ob alle lees cbr che obe af beats 
D 


ACY) LIN GWE ONS 


even in a city of antiquity, were so many pillars and 
pediments seen together. ‘he Greeks and the Ro- 
mans were assuredly not as Greek and Roman as Her 
Majesty’s subjects. One walks between two rows of 


Parthenons, which is very flattering ; there are nothing 


but temples of Vesta and Jupiter to be seen and the 


illusion would be complete did not one read in the 
spaces between the pillars inscriptions such as the fol- 
lowing: Gas Company. Life Insurance Company. The 
Ionic order is well thought of; the Doric even more 
so, but the Paestumian pillar enjoys a marvellous popu- 
larity ; it is stuck everywhere, like the nutmeg Boileau 
speaks of. At first glance these colonnades and pedi- 
ments have quite a splendid aspect, but all this magnifi- 
cence is for the most part of mastic or Roman cement, 
stone being rare in London. It is particularly in the 
newly built churches that English architectural genius 
has exhibited the quaintest cosmopolitanism and most 
strangely confused the various styles. Upon an Egyp- 
tian pylon rises a Greek order mixed with Roman 
arches, and over all is placed a Gothic spire. ‘The 
meanest Italian peasant would shrug his shoulders with 
pity at the sight. Yet all modern buildings, with very 


few exceptions, are in this style. 


San 


ALAALADALLALLLEALHLAEALAALLLALLAL ALLS 
A Dae. PEN YEON DiON 


The English are rich, active, industrious; they 
know how to forge iron, to master steam, to twist 
matter into every shape, to invent machines of terrific 
power: they may even have great poets ; but they will 
always lack art, properly speaking; form in itself es- 
capes them. ‘They feel this, they are annoyed at it, 
their national self-love is hurt by it. They know that 
at bottom and in spite of their marvellous material 
civilisation, they are nothing but barbarians veneered 
over. Lord Elgin, so violently anathematised by 
Byron, committed a useless piece of sacrilege; the 
basst-relievi he brought to London will inspire no one. 
The gift of plastics has been denied to the peoples of 
the North; the sun, that brings objects out in relief, 
strengthens contours and restores to each thing its true 
form, illumines these countries with too oblique rays 
which the leaden light of gas cannot make up for. 
Then the English are not Roman Catholics. Protest- 
antism is a religion as fatal to art as Islamism, and 
perhaps even more so. Artists must be either Roman 
Catholics or pagans. Ina country where temples are 
nothing but great square rooms, devoid of pictures, 
ornaments, and statues, where periwigged gentlemen 


speak seriously, and with a wealth of Biblical allusions 


B33 


bbebbebbtebettettette tet 


STO WTS OTe wTe VTE 


A ODAYI INYLONDOR 
of Papistical idols and the Scarlet Woman of Babylon, 


art can never rise very high, for the noblest aim of 
sculptor and painter alike is to fix in marble or on 
canvas the divine symbols of the religion prevailing 
in his country and in his day. Phidias carved Venus, 
Raphael painted the Madonna, but neither of them 
was an Anglican. London may become a new Rome, 
but assuredly it will never be a new Athens, a position 
that seems to be reserved for Paris. In London, there 
is gold, power, material development carried to the 
highest degree, a gigantic exaggeration of whatever may 
be done with money, patience and will; there is the 
useful and the comfortable, but neither beauty nor the 
agreeable. In Paris, we have grace, flexibility, deli- 
cacy, an easy understanding of harmony and beauty, in 
a word, Greek qualities. The English will excel in 
everything which it is possible to do and particularly 
in what is impossible. ‘They will establish a Bible 
Society in Pekin, and will get to Timbuctoo in white 
kid gloves and patent leather boots, in a state of com- 
plete “respectability.” They will invent machines 
capable of turning out six hundred thousand pairs of 
stockings in one minute, and they will even discover 


new countries in which they may dispose of their 


334 


oe ee 


dese ob fe oe oe ade oe de abe ease cece ck ecb obec ce ob loa 


wre eye efe 


A AY LENGE ON: DON 


stockings, but they will never make a bonnet that a 
Parisian shop-girl would consent to wear. If taste 
could be bought, they would pay a high price for it; 
fortunately God has reserved to himself two or three 
little things which all the gold of the great of the earth 
cannot buy — genius, beauty, and happiness. 
Nevertheless, in spite of these criticisms, which 
apply to details, the general aspect of London has 
something about it that amazes and fills one with 
stupor. It is in very truth a capital in the civilised 
meaning. Everything is grand, splendid, and arranged 
according to the latest improvements. ‘The streets 
are too wide, too great, too well lighted; the care for 
material facilities is carried to the utmost point. In 
this respect Paris is at least a hundred years behind 
London, and up to a certain point its mode of con- 
struction prevents its ever equalling the English capital. 
English houses are very lightly built, for the ground on 
which they are constructed does not belong to the 
owner of the building. The whole of the ground on 
which the city stands is owned, as in the Middle Ages, 
by a very smali number of noblemen and millionaires 
who grant permission to build in return for a stated 


payment. ‘This permission covers a certain period of 


335 


LELLLALELLLALLALALLLLLLELS 
A‘. DAYOIN’Y LONDON 


time, and the house is built to last about as long. 
This reason, joined to the fragility of the materials 
employed, is the cause that London is renewed every 
thirty years and allows of the progress of civilisation, 
as the cant phrase goes, to be kept up with. Then 
the Great Fire of 1666 made a clean sweep, much to 
my regret, for | am not very fond of modern archi- 
tectural genius and I greatly prefer the picturesque to 
the comfortable. 

The English genius is naturally methodical; in the 
streets every one keeps to the right as a matter of 
course; there are thus formed regular streams of peo- 
ple going the one in one direction the other in the 
other. A handful of soldiers is enough for London, 
and even they have no police duties to perform. I do 
not remember seeing a single guard-room. Policemen, 
with a number on their hats and a strap on their cuff 
to show they are on duty, walk about quietly and philo- 
sophically, bearing no other arms than a baton less 
than twenty-four inches in length, and thus traverse 
the most densely populated quarters. In case of need 
they call each other by means of a wooden rattle. 
The vast traffic, the terrifying movement that gives 


one the vertigo, is so to speak, left to itself, and thanks 


336 


oe oo a ee oe oe oh ah checks cde cnc cde cece ce abe obo 
A DAY IN LONDON 


to the common sense of the crowd, accidents do not 
happen. 

The people look more wretched than the lower 
classes in Paris. With us, working men, and people 
of the lower classes have clothes made for them; they 
are coarse, it is true, but of a particular cut, so that it 
is plain they have always owned them. If their jacket 
happens to be torn, one understands that they have 
worn it since it was new. The shop girls and work- 
ing girls are fresh and clean, though very simply 
dressed. But it is not soin London; there every one 
wears a dress coat, trousers with straps, gui facit ille 
facit, — even the poor devil who opens the door of a 
cab. The women all wear a J/ady’s bonnet and 
gown so that at the first glance they look like people 
of a higher walk in life who have come to grief through 
misconduct or misfortune. The reason of this is that 
the lower classes in London wear second-hand clothes, 
and by a series of successive degradations, the gentle- 
man’s dress coat finally adorns the person of a sewer 
cleaner, and the duchess’ satin bonnet is stuck on some 
wretched servant’s head. Even in Saint Giles’, that 
dreadful Irish quarter which surpasses anything one 


can imagine in the way of dirt and filth, are seen silk 


VOL. II. — 22 397 


ah obs ae che he che hae choles abe be obec be abe shee 
D 


AYCIN VUON DOW 


hats and black coats, the latter usually worn without a 
shirt and buttoned over the bare buff that shows 
through the tears. Yet Saint Giles is but two steps 
from Oxford street and Piccadilly. 

Nor are those contrasts diminished by the least 
gradation; there is no transition between the most 
splendid luxury and the most appalling poverty. Car- 
riages do not enter these rutty lanes, full of puddles of 
water in which swarm ragged children and where tall 
slips of girls with dishevelled hair, bare footed and bare 
legged, with a wretched rag scarce sufficient to cross 
on the bosom, look at you with a haggard, fierce 
glance. What suffering and famine are to be read on 
those thin, sallow, gray, bumpy faces reddened by the 
cold! There are poor devils there who have been 
hungry from the day they were weaned. ‘These 
people live on steamed potatoes and rarely know the 
taste of bread. By dint of privation the blood of these 
miserable wretches becomes thinner and thinner, and 
from red turns yellow, as has been proved by the re- 
ports of medical men. 

There are on the lodging-houses in Saint Giles’ 
inscriptions that run thus — Furnished cellar for a single 


gentleman. ‘That is enough to give you an idea of the 


338 


ALELAEALLLLLLALALLALL LAL LES 
mae AY) INV LONDON 


place. I was curious enough to enter one of these 
cellars, and I assure you I never saw any place so little 
furnished. It seems incredible that human beings can 
live in such dens, yet it is true that they die there in 
thousands. 

That is the seamy side of every civilisation ; .mon- 
strous fortunes mean frightful poverty. In order that 
a few may devour so much, many more must go fast- 
ing; the loftier the palace, the deeper the quarry, and 
nowhere is the disproportion more marked than in 
England. To be poor in London strikes me as one 
of the tortures Dante forgot to include in his spiral of 
woes. It is so plain that the possession of wealth is 
the only recognised merit, that the poor English de- 
spise themselves and humbly put up with the arrogance 
and contempt of those in easy or rich circumstances. 
The English, who talk so much of Papistic idols, 
ought not to forget that the golden calf is the vilest of 
idols and the one that calls for the most sacrifices. 

Happily the fetidity of these loathsome places is 
corrected by the squares, which are very numerous. 
The Place Royale in Paris best conveys the idea of an 
English square, which is a place bordered by houses of 


uniform design, and having in the centre a garden 


339 


LEELEALALLALSEELELAALAL LLY 
A SDAY LNAL OND 


planted with tall trees, enclosed by railings; the 
emerald green sward of these spaces pleasantly rests 
the eyes wearied by the sombre tints of the sky and 
the buildings. “These squares are often connected and 
cover a vast extent of ground. Magnificent ones have 
just been erected near Hyde Park, and are intended 
for the nobility. No shop, no store troubles the aris- 
tocratic peace of these elegant Thebaids. It is greatly 
to be wished that the use of squares should become 
general in Paris, where the houses tend to crowd more 
and more together, and from which vegetation and ver- 
dure will end by disappearing completely. There is 
nothing so pleasant as these vast, quiet, cool and green 
enclosures. It is true that I never saw any one walk- 
ing about in these attractive gardens, to which each 
tenant has a key; they are satisfied with preventing 
other people from entering them. 

The squares and the parks are one of the great 
charms of London. Saint James’ Park, close to Pall 
Mall is a delightful place to stroll in. It is reached by 
a huge staircase, worthy of Babylon itself, at the foot 
of the Duke of York’s column. ‘The walk along the 
Egyptian colonnade of Carlton Place is very wide and 


very handsome. But what I especially liked about it, 


340 


LEEPLLALALALAEALLAALE LL SAA KA 
A DAY IN LONDON 


is the great pond filled with herons, ducks and other 
water-birds. The English excel in giving to made 
gardens a romantic and natural look. Westminster, 
the towers of which rise above the tree tops, admirably 
closes the prospect on the river side. 

Hyde Park, where parade the fashionable horses and 
equipages, has something quite rural and country like, 
thanks to the extent of the waters and of the greens. 
It is not a garden but a landscape. ‘The statue voted 
by the ladies of London to the Duke of Wellington, is 
in Hyde Park. The noble Duke has been idealised 
and deified under the figure of Achilles. I do not 
believe it is possible to carry grotesqueness and ridicu- 
lousness farther; to place upon the torso of the valiant 
son of Peleus and the muscular neck of the conqueror 
of Hector the noble Duke’s British head, with its 
hooked nose, its flat mouth and its square chin, is one 
of the most comical ideas that ever entered a human 
brain. It is artless, involuntary and therefore irresist- 
ible caricature. The statue, cast in bronze by West- 
macott, out of the metal of the guns taken at the 
battles of Vitoria, Salamanca, Tolosa and Waterloo, is 
no less than eighteen feet high. The corrective to 


this apotheosis is to be found alongside of it. “Thanks 


341 


to one of those ironical antitheses due to chance, the 
great jester at human affairs, the noble Duke’s man- ~ 
sion, Apsley House, stands on the corner of Piccadilly, 
and from his window he can look every morning 
upon the bronze counterfeit presentment of him- 
self as Achilles, which is a very pleasant sort of an 
awakening. Unfortunately Lord Wellington’s popu- 
larity in England is somewhat doubtful, and as the 
rabble knows no keener delight than to smash with 
stones, and sometimes with gunshots, the windows of 
Achilles, all the sashes in Apsley House are grated 
and protected by iron lined shutters. It is the 
gemoniae by the side of the Pantheon; the Tarpeian 
Rock close by the Capitol. 

Hyde Park is lined with charming houses in the real 
English style, adorned with glazed galleries, green 
shutters, and projecting pavilions that recall Gothic 
turrets and produce an excellent effect. 

One is surprised to see such vast open spaces in a 
city like London. Regent’s Park, in which are the 
Zoological Gardens and which is bordered by buildings 
in the style of the Garde-Meuble and the Ministry of 
Marine in Paris, is absolutely enormous, and one can 


easily lose one’s way in it. The most picturesque 


342 


abe obo obs ols obs obs obs obs ob obs oe boobs obs obr ob ols obs ob obs of alle abate 


ore OFS 27S HO SHE VIS OO 


A DAY IN“ LON DION 


effects have been obtained, thanks to the skilful hand- 
ling of the undulation of the ground. 

That is about what I saw on my walk through 
London; it is of course very incomplete, but I should 
need volumes and not a single letter, did I attempt to 
describe London fully. You may desire to know, 
however, my opinion of English cookery and to be 
told what the English eat and drink, these matters 
being usually passed over in silence by writers of travel 
who are taken up with quarrelling over the exact 
measurements of some pillar or obelisk that no one 
cares a pin for. For my part, as I do not belong to 
that exalted class, I shall confess that the question is a 
serious one, —as serious as the Eastern question. The 
English claim that they possess the secret of healthy, 
substantial, and abundant food. That food consists 
mainly of turtle soup, beefsteak, rumpsteak, fish, vege~ 
tables boiled in water, ham, beef, rhubarb tarts, and 
other similar primitive dishes. It is quite true that all 
this food is absolutely natural and is cooked without 
any sauce or relish, but it is not eaten in the condition 
in which it is served. The seasoning of the dishes is 
done at table, according to each person’s taste. Six 


or eight small flagons placed on the table on a silver 


343 


dedbck deck ck check ob oh heobade deck coche dec eck 
A DAY IN LONDON 


salver, and containing anchovy sauce, cayenne pepper, 
Harvey’s fish sauce, and a number of East Indian in- 
gredients that blister the throat, turn these dishes so 
simply dressed into something more violent than the 
spiciest of ragouts. I have eaten without a wink fried 
pimento and preserved ginger, but these things were 
as honey and sugar by the side of English dishes. 
Porter and Scotch ale, which I am very fond of, are 
quite unlike our French beers, and unlike the Belgian 
beers too, which are themselves superior to our own. 
Porter will burn like brandy, and Scotch ale intoxicates 
like champagne. ‘The wines drunk in England, sherry 
and port, are merely rum more or less disguised. 
Under the name of champagne there is also drunk a 
large quantity of Devonshire cider. At dessert there 
is put on, along with the Cheshire cheese and the dry 
biscuits, celery very neatly served in crystal cups. The 
oranges, which are brought from Portugal, are excellent 
and very cheap. Indeed they are the only cheap thing 
in London. | 

I dined at the Hotel Brunswick, near the East India 
docks, and close to the Thames. ‘The ships passed 
up and down in front of the windows and almost 


seemed to be coming into the room. I was served, 


344 


ale ob obs ole ols aloe oe obs ole obs ocd ee ole obs obe ola ob ole ole oe ob cbe 


CHO CFO GIO GF CFS GES CFS ED VTS CTO CFO CFO Ve CHE WS OFS 


Pee Winey UN aT OUND, OuN: 


among other things, with a rumpsteak of such size, sur- 
rounded by so many potatoes and so much cauliflower, 
and covered with such abundance of oyster sauce, that 
there would have been enough to satisfy four people. I 
was also taken to a table d’hote in a tavern near the 
Fish Market at Billingsgate, where I ate exquisitely 
fresh turbot, soles, and salmon. At the beginning of 
the meal the landlord asked the blessing, and at the 
close returned thanks after having knocked on the table 
with his knife to call the company to attention. 

The cafés, or coffee-rooms, are utterly unlike French 
cafés, and are rather gloomy rooms, divided into small 
boxes; they altogether lack the brightness of our 
Parisian cafés, brilliant with gilding, mouldings, and 
mirrors. Indeed, mirrors are not often met with in 
England, and those I saw were very small. 

There are also in every part of the city fish-houses 
where people go to eat oysters, prawns, and lobsters 
at night after the theatre. As these taverns are not 
licensed for the sale of beer and spirits, you have to 
give the money to the waiter, who goes out, as required, 
to purchase the drink you wish. 

As for the theatres, I saw only the Italian Opera 
and the Théatre-Francais. It would be absurd to talk 


345 


thteeebeeebehdbbbb eek 
A DAY IN LONDON 


to you of the latter, and so | shall say a few words of 
the former. 

The hall is quite as large as that of our own Opera 
in the Rue Lepelletier, but in order to accommodate the 
spectators the stage has been made to suffer. The 
spectators invade the stage, there being three rows of 
proscenium boxes between the footlights and the cur- 
tain, producing a curious effect. The supernumeraries, 
the members of the chorus, may not come farther for- 
ward than the first wings, in order not to prevent the 
young gentlemen in the lower proscenium boxes from 
seeing the stage. ‘The leading singers alone stand out 
on the proscenium and play outside the framework of 
the stage setting, much as if they were figures cut out of 
a picture and placed some six feet in front of the back- 
ground against which they are to show. When at the 
end of an act, in consequence of some tragical event, 
the hero or the heroine is stabbed and dies near the 
footlights, he or she has to be taken under the arms 
and dragged backwards up the stage, so as not to be 
separated from the mourning suite by the fall of the 
curtain. 

The boxes are upholstered in red damask, and are 


consequently somewhat dark. ‘The hall itself is not 


346 


ceo ee be oe oh oe ecb odode oadade cc cco ee coe 
AYO DLN LONDON 


very well lighted, the whole blaze of light being re- 
served for the stage; this arrangement, combined with 
the powerful foot, top, and side lights, enable absolutely 
magical effects to be produced. The sunrise which 
ends the ballet of “ Giselle” produces a perfect illusion 
and does honour to Mr. Greave’s skill. Along with 
“ Giselle” was given an opera by Donizetti, “ Gemma 
de Vergy,” imitated, as far as the libretto goes, from 
Dumas’ “ Charles VII and his Great Vassals,’”’ and as 
regards the music, from Donizetti himself, and also 
Bellini and Rossini. Gualti, the tenor, and Mlle. 
Adelaide Moltini, of Milan, managed to win applause 
in it, but the lady’s shoulders accounted for quite half 
the demonstration. 

Although the swells had not yet arrived, I saw at 
the Opera lovely female faces, beautifully set off by 
the red damask of the boxes. Keepsakes are truer 
than one is apt to think them, and they do reproduce 
very faithfully the mannered grace and the frail, ele- 
gant forms of the women of the aristocracy. “These 
do have eyes with long lashes and moist glances, curls 
of golden hair that caress white shoulders and snowy 
bosoms generously exposed to the view, —a fashion 


which strikes me as contrasting rather strongly with Eng- 


_3t7 


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ewe eye ere wre eTe 


A PDAYVYGOIN ALOND Oe 
lish prudery. Bright colours appear to be preferred. In 


the same box there were shining, like the solar spec- 
trum, three ladies dressed, the one in yellow, the second 
in scarlet, and the third in sky-blue. Nor are the 
head-dresses in very good taste. Every one knows 
how many things Englishwomen stick on their heads: 
gold fringes, coral branches, twigs of trees, shells, 
oyster beds; their fancy is startled at nothing, espe- 
cially when they have reached “a certain age,” as it 
is called. 

And now that is about all that may be seen while 
traversing London as goes his nose, a worthy dreamer 
who does not know a word of English, who is no great 
admirer of blackened stones, and who thinks any street 


that happens to open up before him as attractive as the 
Great Exhibition. 


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